


For the Love of Dog

by shadhahvar



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Photographer, Comfort, Cooking, Cuddling, Dancing in the Rain, Domestic Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Established Relationship, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Poodle Cuts, Poodles, Reminiscing, Sickfic, Snowed In, dog rescue, wedding photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-02 16:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13322382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadhahvar/pseuds/shadhahvar
Summary: Victor is a professional photographer specialising in pet and wedding photography.  Yuri is working on his masters in music theory while working at a cafe to help make ends meet.ForDomestic Victuuri Weekover on Tumblr.





	1. a shave and a haircut, two bits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vagrancing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vagrancing/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Victor's out all day shooting a wedding, Yuri's left in charge of taking Makkachin to the groomers and then the veterinarian for her yearly check-up. Something, of course, doesn't go quite as planned.

Victor glanced down at his phone, tapping on the home button to bring up the time on the black screen. Barely five-thirty in the morning and he already had to be out the door, driving two hours south for a wedding that afternoon. There were photographs to take of the bridal parties getting dressed, of their bridesmaids and bridesdudes, the pre-wedding photographs, the photographs through the ceremony, then the reception…

Yuri, bless his caffeine-infused skin, was already up and moving around the kitchen, finishing making Victor the coffee he needed to make his day start off on the right foot. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” he asked as he slid his arms around Yuri’s waist, kissing his temple, careful of his glasses. Yuri breathed out in a snort, a soft smile turning his lips up at the corner.

“Isn’t that the question?”

It was a tease, Victor chuckling as he rested his chin on Yuri’s shoulder. “I showed up at my favourite cafe with my favourite dog trying to convince my favourite barista to go on a date with me for nine months before he finally agreed.”

“After nine months I still thought you were _teasing_ ,” Yuri said, cheeks gaining a pleasing rosy hue. Victor once might have found that impossible, in a time before he truly started to know Yuri, to see how he challenged an anxiety that didn’t leave so much as pop up in the least constructive moments to throw down a gauntlet and challenge him to a duel. Most the time, Yuri accepted that challenge. His stubbornness would win out, and Yuri would face life like he wanted to, if not always on the first try.

He was skilled in getting up and trying again. Victor admired that about his boyfriend, the one standing here in fuzzy slippers with silly flapping ears and a bright pink tongue. Victor had given them to him for his birthday, amoung other things; poodle slippers and a card promising Yuri a wonderful gift for his graduation in the spring.

It was wonderful, having him here now. Victor wished he could stay longer in this moment, breathing in the mixed scents of coffee grounds and soap and the subtle savor of Yuri himself. He sighed, kissing Yuri’s shoulder as he straightened up, shuffling to his side and accepting the lidded mug Yuri offered over. “Thank you,” he said, ducking in to capture Yuri’s lips for a brief, warm kiss.

Yuri’s face still had that beautiful blush Victor found next to impossible to resist when he pulled away again, bright eyes glimmering with good humour and happiness that Victor felt deep inside. 

“You’re welcome. Don’t forget your bento,” Yuri said, motioning toward the counter where one of the stacked bento boxes Yuri had brought along with himself when he’d moved in three months ago.

Victor didn’t bother disguising his laugh of pleasure, mug clutched in hand as he swept Yuri up into his arms and swung him around. Yuri protested, clinging to him and laughing while telling him firmly to _set him down_. Victor complied, smile in no way dimming.

“Thank you! My angel, keeping me fed and caffeinated even when he has a busy day ahead of him too.” Victor peppered kisses over Yuri’s cheeks and forehead, pressing a last one to his lips with a smile. His expression smoothed out into one of gentle concern when he pulled away, regarding Yuri’s face. “You’re sure you’ll be okay taking Makkachin to her appointments today?”

Yuri’s sigh of fond exasperation went a long way toward reassuring Victor. “Taking my favourite girl to get all prettied up before her check-up? I’m the one who gets to hang out with the best dog in the world today. You’re the one who gets to handle four mothers of the brides.”

Victor grimaced, reminding himself to check his phone for everyone’s names before he got out of the car. “I still don’t know how I managed to sign on for that particular circus.”

Yuri smiled, apparently taking pity on him. He cupped the side of Victor’s face, cheeks gaining a little more colour as he leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. “You’ll be great. You’re _perfect_. Just remember you have me and Makkachin to come back to, and all the rest will work itself out.”

Victor’s heart skipped a beat, thudding heavy in his chest with the weight of an emotion he’d learned to call _love_. Different, more than subtly different, than the love he felt for Makkachin, or his parents, or his extended family. Even different from his first infatuation as a teenager; loving Yuri was a vibrancy that sang through him like the music Yuri wrote, beautiful and unique and infinitely more complicated when analysed than Victor had ever expected.

“Okay,” he said, holding Yuri’s gaze with his own, until his boyfriend smiled and pulled his head back, shuffling for the counter. He picked up the bento and offered it to Victor, tipping his head toward a thermos also on the counter. 

“Peach tea with honey-lavender,” he said, and it was all Victor needed to hear.

“You spoil me,” he said, Yuri only smiling in response, and then Victor had his arms full of the offerings of Yuri’s love, hustling down the stairs to his waiting car and the photography equipment he’d packed late the night before. 

* * *

Yuri took himself back to bed with Makkachin after Victor was on the road, deciding a few more hours of sleep was due if he’d get away with it. Most of his duties thay day were with Makkachin; nudging the steps close to Victor’s queen-size bed, Yuri kept a steadying hand on Makkachin’s shoulder as she walked up and stepped onto the mess of comforters and sheets in blues and greens and white. She trampled down Victor’s side of the bed, turning herself in circles a few times before settling down with a humph and burrowing her nose under her tail. Before long she’d be sprawled out, but right now she was expressing her displeasure at having one dad carelessly abandon her without taking her along.

Yuri smiled to himself, stroking over her poll and patting her side before he, too, flopped over, trying to get comfortable. Strange how after only three months he’d gotten so used to sleeping every night by Victor’s side, adjusting to cold feet finding the backs of his calves after late night bathroom runs, adjusting to the furnace like warmth of another body by tossing the sheets off himself and then cuddling closer anyway, drawn to Victor even when he dreamed.

Bothersome too when it meant he tossed and turned without Victor there, eventually rousing himself out of bed to putter around the apartment, marveling at the integration of two lives evident in every direction he looked. There’d been concessions on both parts, but the photographs of Makkachin that dominated one wall were now interspersed with photographs of Yuri and Makkachin, Victor joining them every so often. Most the photos were from their first date, when Victor had taken Yuri to the beachside park and its rolling meadows of wildflowers blooming at that time of the year. Makkachin’s delighted runs through the swirling flowers had been prompted and joined in by Yuri on Victor’s request; many months later, Yuri could even admit he didn’t look terrible in those photographs.

Victor could make anything beautiful, captured through the lens of his camera. Victor _himself_ was beautiful, almost unfairly so. The small jealousy Yuri felt wasn’t even aimed at that so much as aimed at the apparent effortlessness of Victor’s shape. Until he’d finally admitted they were dating and spent his first night at Victor’s, crashing on his bed after a late-night party, he had no idea Victor actually had a work-out routine.

He didn’t mind learning. Victor going through yoga stretches had been a very _educational_ and alluring experience.

It had, however, led to Yuri agreeing to join him, which he largely didn’t regret.

If anything, he learned he too could be flexible with enough applied consistent stretching. He even liked it after a while, though he still preferred watching Victor lead him through the stretches.

Ideally while Yuri was watching from behind.

That morning he went through some basic stretches on his own, enjoying the feeling after he was limbered up and shuffling around the kitchen, getting Makkachin’s breakfast in order. She joined him in short order, wagging her tail and perking up her ears as she waited, then barking once in approval once he put her bowl back in its holder, breakfast served.

He took a picture of her eating, sending it to Victor as a pick-me up for once he arrived. He knew Victor appreciated the contact. When Yuri didn’t always know what to say, Makkachin was a language all on her own.

All things told, his day started off promising. They only had the one car, Yuri heading out with Makkachin on foot to walk the blocks to her regular groomer’s. Her veterinary office was a few blocks further out still, and all in all, a decent amount of mutual exercise for them both. Yuri looked forward to it, appreciating the leisurely pace he could set with Makkachin. She was a wonderful dog, Victor’s pride and best friend. She loved Yuri just as much as Victor, gracing him with slobbery kisses and balls and her favourite stuffed squeaky toy when she wanted to play. 

Sometimes he teased Victor that the reason they’d started dating was because Yuri had wanted to get closer to Makkachin.

Victor would tease right back that he knew full well that was the case; why else had he taken to using Makkachin as the exchange for Yuri accepting spending time in Victor’s company?

(It was perhaps just a _little_ bit true.)

It was a brisk morning, the sun shining in a bright blue sky with scattered clouds lending it a softness. He idly spotted a few shapes in those thin clouds: a sheet, then a sheaf of paper, and then the amused acknowledgement that those weren’t proper cloud-watching clouds, but that one did look like a spill of cottonballs along the bathroom floor.

“Good morning!” he heard as he opened the door, Makkachin preceding him into the groomer’s. “Ooh, is this Makkachin? Hello, girl, how’re you doing today?”

Yuri didn’t recognise the young woman on the other side of the half-door dividing the grooming section from the front reception area, but he smiled and cleared his throat as Makkachin wagged her tail, sniffing and greeting her new friend.

“Yes, this is Makkachin. She has an appointment this morning for grooming and a nail trim?”

The young woman finished greeting Makkachin, rising back up to her feet and flashing Yuri another bright grin. Her nametag was visible then. _Agatha._ “Are you Mr. Nikiforov?”

 _No, but I wouldn’t mind if I were._ His face heated up, Yuri shaking his head and only just refraining from waving his hands in a firm denial. “I’m Makkachin’s other dad!” he said instead, blurting it out as a confession.

Agatha blinked and laughed, nodding like this made sense, which it might have, if Yuri paused to consider the implications. “Great! What a lucky girl, to have two dads who love her so much, huh?” Makkachin barked once, either agreeing or responding to Agatha’s tone of voice.

Yuri preferred to pretend it was in agreement.

“I’ll just take her back then? She should be ready in about an hour and a half to two hours. She’s our first big groom of the day, aren’t you, girl?”

Surrendering the leash to her, Yuri crouched down and ran his fingers through Makkachin’s lengthened curls. It was truly something else how her hair grew; unable to shed, and water resistant to boot, she always looked like an even younger dog after grooming.

“It’s the usual today, right?”

Agatha paused, then nodded. “The usual for Makkachin? Got it. We’ll get you looking all nice and spruced up for your dads!”

Yuri supposed later on he should have guessed something was off right then, but he was blissfully unaware. After confirming he’d be called when she was ready, he set off to look at the local stores, enjoying the time spent on his own on a lovely winter day.

By the time he’d gotten the call to come pick Makkachin up, he’d found a new market he didn’t know was in the area, picking up two buttercup squashes that looked like a promising lead on dinner for tomorrow. Tonight would be shot: Victor wasn’t due back until late, and Yuri would make something easy to reheat for when he was home.

He was still thinking these thoughts as he paid for Makkachin’s grooming, waiting for her to be brought out front by another one of the groomers, Kevin. “I was surprised how good this looked on her,” he said with a grin before disappearing in back.

Yuri stared blankly after him. Makkachin’s teddy bear cut always looked good on her, and it was what she got every time she came in. What was so different about this time?

He learned shortly after, Makkachin trotting out on her leash looking… 

“ _Oh,_ ”

Looking like a poodle with a different cut than he ever expected, poms around each of her feet, her ears long and fluffy, a topknot on her head adding volume. Her tail remained blessedly full, trimmed around the base but nowhere else.

_Victor’s going to kill me!_

Yuri was so flabbergasted by Makkachin’s new haircut he could only accept her leash and turn around to leave, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing in shock. His distressed noise once they were outside the front doors brought Makkachin to attention, nudging at his thigh and whining.

“It’s okay,” he told her. _It’s not okay at all! Makkachin is Victor’s baby! His princess! He’s best and oldest friend!_

Makkachin, unaware of the content of Yuri’s thoughts, panted at his side and then promptly investigated an interesting smelling corner.

He knew he should turn right back around and march in to demand this be fixed, but Makkachin’s veterinary appointment was happening too soon, and without a car or the desire to use a service that would be animal friendly, Yuri had to get them there on foot by heading out now. He worried and fretted and kept almost sending Victor texts the whole way, but instead sent him a note about the buttercup squash.

Victor sent back a link to _What’s Up, Buttercup?_

Yuri sent back a link to a photograph of a buttercup.

He completely avoided the question of Makkachin’s haircut for now. After all, it should have been _her usual_ , instead of, of…

Yuri spent a portion of their walk to the veterinary audience looking up what exactly Makkachin’s haircut was called.

 _Bikini_.

_I got Victor’s dog a bikini shave._

_I’m so dead!_

With the minor disaster of Makkachin’s haircut (not terrible looking, but not at all what Victor would be expecting), Yuri’s nerves over the veterinary visit ratcheted up. Makkachin stuck by his side, bumping against him and nosing at his hand as they went. He settled on reassuring her swallowing down his growing minor panic: what could be wrong? She had a touch of arthritis, he knew that, they gave her supplements to help. Her teeth were in good condition, her heart was in great condition, her eyes were doing well, all things considered, and she didn’t seem hard of hearing. 

His mind jumped to other possibilities, from hidden dental abcesses to unspotted fatty tumours, to her somehow having canine leukemia despite having none of the signs or symptoms. What if she was developing an ulcer in her stomach? They’d been late giving her HeartGuard last month, what if she had heartworms? They wouldn’t treat that in a twelve year old poodle! (How she would have been bitten by a mosquito when the mosquitoes were all quite dormant and dead at the time was a logical question that did nothing to assuage the growing worry.)

Consequentially, when Yuri and Makkachin finally made it to the vet’s office, they were both nervous and twitch. Makkachin usually even liked the vet, having had nothing but generally nice experiences past the awkwardness of temperatures taken and the occasional prick of a needle followed by copious treats (supplemented, as always, by Victor). The older man working registration signed them both in and had them sit down, until Yuri’s fidgeting lead to him standing and trying not to pace with Makkachin as they looked over the different treats and toys hanging from the merchandise wall.

By the time they were back in the room waiting for the veterinary tech to finish taking Makkachin’s vitals, Yuri was fairly certain he’d missed something obvious and he was going to have to deliver terrible news to Victor when he came home that evening.

All of which he fumblingly confessed to their veterinarian when she walked in the door.

“Woah, let’s slow down there. Has Makkachin been acting unusually?” she said, walking Yuri through each question with an attentive eye and considerate ear. He felt the worse of his fears slowly alleviating as Dr. Petróva lead him through the normal course of questions, asking if he had a stool sample (he cursed himself, but he didn’t) and if he wanted them to run a standard blood panel (he nodded, apologising to Makkachin before they even took the blood draw).

“All in all, Mr. Katsuki, Makkachin is looking very well for her age. Her heart’s nice and strong, her teeth are looking great, she’s breathing well, and you said her arthritis seems to be under control?”

Yuri nodded, running his hand over Makkachin’s shoulders. “Yes, we don’t let her jump off the furniture like she used to, and when we’re helping her up on the bed she’s been walking a lot better than when she’s been jarring herself in the mornings. It’s always the worst when she’s first up, and when she gets tired later in the day.”

“But she’s not too stiff?”

Yuri shook his head. “No big groans when she’s getting up or lying down either. Most the time she’s been moving easily enough.”

By the time Dr. Petróva had offered to go over some basic canine massages with Yuri, he was feeling much more calm and in control. Makkachin was an exceptionally healthy twelve year old poodle, the blood panel results would be back soon enough to see if anything was off there, and Makkachin as given twice as many as her usual treats as an apology from Yuri for the added stress of the day.

She was content with this compromise, wagging her tail and poking her nose toward any and all interesting scents they encountered on their way home. Her unexpected haircut, unusual as it was for her, had taken on the quality of an amusing story to Yuri by the time they were a block away from their apartment.

Only he hadn’t told Victor.

He frowned, seeing the notification from him on his phone with a simple, sad emoji and the phrase, “Save me from three motherzillas and one drunk mother-in-law.”

He sent back a heart, and promised a shoulder massage whenever Victor got in that night.

The heart and angel emoji he got in response was answer enough.

_Makkachin has a clean bill of health. I forgot the stool sample, but they said we could drop it off anytime this next week, no extra charge. They did a full blood panel, and she’s all up to date on her shots, but Dr. Petróva said she looked great._

Victor’s response didn’t come until after Yuri was home, checking the heat and turning up the thermostat before settling in to start working on classwork in the living room.

_Great! That’s what I was hoping for. She’s been doing good on her new diet, and the stairs have helped with getting her up and down from the bed when she wants to be._

Yuri smiled at his phone, heartwarming with affection for the man who cared this much about his dog, and who cared for still inexplicable reasons for Yuri himself. “Why are you the one asking what you did to deserve me when I’m the one who keeps wondering how in the world I ended up being blessed to have you in my life?”

Victor wasn’t around to answer, and Makkachin only wagged her tail, a quiet conversationalist even at the best of times.

He sighed, still smiling, and turned back to his work. He might never know, but he was grateful nevertheless.

* * *

Hours later, long past dark, Victor trundled up the stairs to their shared apartment, tips of his ears burning with cold, eyes bleary with tiredness. He’d get going on organising the wedding album tomorrow, touching up the few hundred photographs that were part of the wedding package, getting them into the online gallery in the next week. Right then all he wanted was to see Yuri, see his dog, kiss both of them in significantly different ways, shower, then pass out.

He stepped through the door to find Yuri asleep at the table, books and sheets of music and notes laid out before, around, and underneath his arms. His glasses were resting off to the side, next to a half-full glass of water and an empty mug of tea.

Makkachin wagged her tail from her bed, lifting up and shaking herself off as she strode over toward him, welcoming him home. Victor blinked, registering what struck him as odd: she’d been to the groomer’s today, but her hair…

He started laughing, clapping a hand over his mouth to hold it back and trying not to wake Yuri. After the exhaustion of a day dealing with more mothers than he could shake a few sticks at, a bride with very exact ideas of what kind of wedding portraits she wanted with her wife, and the terror of a small gaggle of children that had taken to following him around and ducking behind objects whenever he’d turn back to see them, Makkachin’s unexpected look was too much.

Too hilarious, too cute, too unexpected. Not his favourite look, the poofs always made him think of things like lollypops and cocktail olives on toothpicks, but so supremely harmless he could only laugh.

Yuri startled awake, pushing back from the table so hard he almost tipped the chair backward. Victor caught it, still laughing, and bent down, kissing the top of Yuri’s messy hair.

“Makkachin’s got an interesting new look,” he said, Yuri lowering his face into his hands and groaning.

“Victor, I’m so sorry, it wasn’t her usual groomer and I told them to do the usual and then I couldn’t even think of what to say when they led her out and I had to get her to the vet’s—”

Victor leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Yuri’s shoulders. “It’s okay. I kind of like it. She looks fancier than usual, and not as floofy as the poodles with the lion cuts.” Nuzzling against Yuri’s cheek, he pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Why not try it out for a while? If we really don’t like it, we can take her back in for a quick trim.”

Yuri’s hands reached up to find Victor’s arms, taking hold of his forearms. “Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin her image…”

Victor smiled, closing his eyes. “She’s beautiful however she is. Just like you’re beautiful, for being you. Yes, I’m sure. Just promise me one thing,” he asked, hearing Yuri’s hum of acknowledgement.

“Remember to brush out her new poofball hocks and wrists every few days?”

Yuri went still in Victor’s arms, slowly turning his face to get a good look at Victor. There was a suspicious wetness to his eyes that thankfully didn’t coalesce into outright tears; emotion choked his voice.

“Always,” he said, finally pushing off the chair within the circle of Victor’s arms, crashing into him and wrapping his arms around Victor’s chest. “Always and forever.”

Victor chuckled, holding him tight. “Yeah,” he said, agreeing to something that both had to do with Makkachin, and had to do with just the two of them. “I know.”


	2. under the weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor suffers from a flu, and Yuri makes him miso.

Yuri fumbled his keys out of his pocket, not quite able to feel his fingers in the chill of the late afternoon air. He heard Makkachin scratching at the door from the other side, giving a low bark of welcome as his keys jangled, finally managing to shove the key into the lock. The familiar sound of a deadbolt pulling back was accompanied by Makkachin poking her head around as he pushed the door open, making excited noises in her throat as Yuri shuffled in with the groceries and slipped out of his shoes.

He’d seen the light on in the living area from the ground, figuring Victor was working there at the moment, though he probably should be lying in bed. “Hey, Makkachin. Who’s a pretty princess? Have you kept Victor on his best behaviour?”

Makkachin circled around him, jumping up once he set his bags down on the kitchen counters. Her tail wagged nonstop, sniffing and licking at his hands once she found them. He laughed, taking her affection as confirmation.

“Good girl. I knew I could count on you.” Patting her head, he tugged at the scarf around his neck and giving the open area of their living space a proper look over. Sure enough, Victor was sitting bundled on the couch, laptop resting on a pillow, tablet pen in hand. He’d been blearily watching Yuri, offering a small smile and a lifted hand when he caught Yuri looking his way.

“Hey,” he said, voice cracking mid word. “Welcome home.”

Yuri didn’t manage much of a smile, the lines of exhaustion on Victor’s face paired with how horrible he sounded and how bundled up he was making him worry. “Hey. How’re you feeling? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

If he were honest with himself, Yuri had no idea what to really do with a sick boyfriend. All he wanted when he was under the weather was to hibernate after school or work, drink anything he could get to stay down, and sip ginger tea or miso with green onions. When his stomach had been upset, he’d even manage a simple rice porridge, a nod to half-remembered illnesses as a child.

Victor, sick, was an experience. He was stubborn, he kept trying to ignore the fact he was sick in the first place, and up until the nausea got so bad Victor couldn’t do anything but exist in the bathroom all the night before, he’d been insisting he was fine.

Which he would be, once this passed, but getting him to even stay in bed turned out to be a herculean effort Yuri didn’t have time for. He was tempted to wear a mask at home with how fast and hard this flu had hit, but by the time Victor was obviously ill, Yuri figured he’d already been exposed. What would come would come.

In the meantime, he still had work and classes to juggle. He fretted that it made him something of a terrible boyfriend, this not knowing what to do and not knowing if he should be hovering or tucking Victor in or shoving glasses of ginger tea and water into his hands. Last night he’d settled on dragging the spare blankets out of the closet and making a nest of sorts on the bathroom floor for Victor, stroking his hair and offering him water to rinse his mouth out after each time he threw up.

He was more proud of the fact _he_ hadn’t started joining Victor from the sound alone than anything else. Almost anything else. Victor falling asleep with his head on Yuri’s lap, holding on to one of his hands, was… sweet. Horrible because of circumstances, but sweet. And bum-numbing. At least Victor had seemed to be at peace for a while, his fevers and chills more manageable, the aches plaguing him mellowing with the descent into a dreamless slumber.

He was not, however, convinced he was still ill, which explained why he’d rallied himself from the bed Yuri had finally gotten him into before leaving that morning and was now firmly affixed on the sofa. He had a glass of water and his largest cooking bowl nearby, and at some point had shuffled Makkachin’s bed closer too.

Makkachin, having paid her dues to Yuri, wandered back to that bed and started circling, settling herself down.

Victor frowned, breathing out in a sigh as he slumped sideways against the couch. “I’m resting,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. “Needed to sit up better. I got bored resting, but…”

Yuri waited, hands resting at his hips. He quirked up his eyebrows, watching Victor slowly drag his hands down over his face.

“Probably,” he said at last. “I’ve been resting all day. I need to get these photos finished and uploaded to the Watanabi gallery before the end of the week. I don’t get sick days.”

He’d said the same thing yesterday, and probably would say the same thing tomorrow. Yuri shook his head, half-smiling, still concerned. He knew he wasn’t a better patient, was probably even more impatient than Victor, but he was healthy and Victor was almost petulant when he was whining. Yuri sympathised to an extent. Being ill was entirely awful.

“You don’t, but have you been able to even focus on the screen? You need to recover, Victor. The flu’s been terrible this year, it’s all everyone’s been talking about.” Coming closer, he leaned over to glance at Victor’s screen. He had a photograph up, adjusting saturation levels, which Yuri knew more or less controlled something about how vivid colours appeared. 

Victor tipped his head back, looking even more listless than before. “I even got my flu shot…”

“Same as me, I know.” He tried to sound reassuring; it seemed to work, Victor giving a slow, shallow nod of his head before closing his eyes.

“Good. Maybe it’ll keep you healthy.” His eyes slit open again, a frown tugging at his lips. “You feel okay, right? I don’t know if you should be around me. We can’t have you get sick too.”

“I work with the public every day. Being around you and Makkachin is much more pleasant, even if you’ve been sick since yesterday.” He reached out, tapping a finger on the top of Victor’s laptop. “ _Rest_.” All his internet searches came back around to the same point: rest would help, and hydration, and food when he could stand it.

Which is part of why he’d gone to the grocery on the way home. Victor sighed and closed his laptop, carefully sitting upright once more, Yuri reaching out to keep him steady.

“Are you insisting?”

“I am, yeah.”

Victor made a disgruntled noise. “Does that mean I have to go back to bed?”

“Mm, you can stay on the couch for now. I was planning on making a few things… have you been able to keep anything down today?”

Victor held his hand up, fingers about five centimeters apart. “Kept a few crackers down. Most the water and tea.”

Yuri nodded, considering this new information. “Are you feeling hungry at all?”

Victor took his time considering the question, eventually holding up his hand in the same way as before. “A little.” 

“Good. I’ll make you something light, then.” Food was something Yuri understood, as a comfort, as a delight, as just about everything. Food was something Yuri loved, even if food didn’t quite love him in the same way. If anything, it loved Yuri too much, leading to a little extra padding just about everywhere on him.

He had no regrets. He took after his mother, a discovery that had delighted Victor, and that meant in his tendency to gain weight, too. 

Yet he didn’t really inherit much of her mothering tendencies, which left him with his hands in the air and unsure what to do when Victor had been feeling so gross. Yuri didn’t like dealing with fluids, or retching people, or people who weren’t well as a general rule, and Victor hadn’t even _asked_ him to do anything, but…

Well, he’d figured out what he could do and live with himself over, and now he had a clear purpose: cooking. Nothing fancy, given Victor’s stomach, but miso and some sliced green onions would do the trick. 

He checked the cupboard where his three different batches of miso paste were fermenting, turning them around to read the date written in black on masking tape. One of them was ready, or so he thought; he found the date he was looking for and nodded to himself, pulling the ceramic container with its stones tied on top with twine down.

Victor had asked about his collection of containers when he moved in, some destined for the fridge, others destined for the back corners of cabinets until they were ready. Victor had appeared enchanted with it all, complimenting Yuri’s prowess with meals of all kinds, then promptly asking if he’d get to try everything when it was ready.

It looked like it was time for Victor to try the miso, made the way Yuri’d learned from his father over fifteen years ago.

He busied himself around the kitchen, pulling out a pot, looking for the measuring cups. When he glanced back toward Victor, he found him huddled down on the sofa, watching Yuri. He smiled and waved, turning back to the task at hand when Victor had briefly waggled his fingers in return. 

Makkachin stayed by Victor’s side as Yuri set the water boiling, nosing up at his dangling hand where it protruded from his nest of blankets. 

Victor had drifted to sleep while Yuri cut the green onions, putting the rest of his groceries away after while he waited for the water to boil on the gas range. He didn’t have to wait long, listening to Makkachin snoring and the music playing softly from the bluetooth speaker across the room.

He loved this, the act of making food, of seeing ingredients come together into something more complex than what they were on their own. Not because recipes needed to be complicated themselves. This was a form of caretaking he understood, one he himself appreciated, though he didn’t know what kind of soup Victor might voluntarily make him were their situations reversed.

Pulling the water off the burner, Yuri mixed in a portion of his homemade miso paste, stirring until it was properly dissolved in the boiling water. Pouring a portion into a mug, he added a sprinkling of green onion.

Victor was rousing himself again by the time Yuri made it to where he was laying on the sofa, peering up through silver lashes and making noises of protests as he wrestled himself into a seated position. Yuri waited while Victor rearranged his blankets, waited even longer for Victor to free up his hands again. Makkachin stretched her neck out to sniff at Yuri, tail thumping in lazy hope.

“It’s not for you, Makkachin. I’ll get your dinner ready next, I promise.”

She huffed, but her tail wagged twice more before she lowered her head back down to her paws.

“What’d you make?” Victor asked, voice sounding both sleepy and diminished.

“Miso. Give it a little longer to cool off, then see if you like it?” It was silly to feel his face heating up now of all times, struck by a sudden uncertainty that Victor would like his homemade miso. “It’s okay if you don’t, I know it’s a bit different than the storemade stuff…” He knew it was much better than the big brand stuff, and he’d stick by his bias, but he wouldn’t impose that bias on _Victor_.

Probably.

Victor slowly smiled, still looking tired and like he didn’t feel well, but the warmth in his eyes was without the fever brightness Yuri had thought had been there the day before. “Yuri, amazing! You made it from scratch?” Victor held out his hands for the mug, accepting it with a pleased hum, breathing in the steam and scent of miso and green onion. “Mm, it smells fantastic.”

“I don’t know about that,” Yuri said, smiling and feeling his face heat with pleasure over a sick man’s praise. He was ridiculous. It still felt nice hearing Victor’s pre-emptive compliments. Yuri had slowly grown used to the way Victor meant what he said; he’d heard him be blunt over what he found less than appetising often enough he trusted Victor to be straightforward with him, at least on the topic of cooking. “But my parents used to make this for me when I didn’t feel well. I figured it was worth trying.”

Victor cradled the mug on his blanket-covered lap, staring up at Yuri. “I didn’t know that,” he said, which wasn’t surprising. It was hardly a topic that’d ever come up. “Thank you, Yuri. For all this.”

Yuri breathed out in a soft laughing exhalation. “You know I love cooking for you.” His face heated up all over again at the bare honesty of his statement. Yuri didn’t look away. “I’m happy to do this.”

Victor’s tired gaze softened, lips pulling into a soft smile. “I know. It’s not just the cooking. Thanks for… everything. Last night, taking Makkachin out, making sure she stays fed too.”

“Victor...” Yuri stepped closer, reaching out to carefully run his fingers over Victor’s cheek, cupping the side of his face with a soft smile of his own. “I’m not really good at so much of this, but I’m happy to try, and learn. With you.”

Leaning into Yuri’s touch, Victor closed his eyes. “Me too,” he said, remaining like that, letting the silence fall over both of them as Yuri studied his face. When Victor’s eyes opened again, Yuri was almost caught off guard by the brilliance of their blue. At the strangest times little details like that felt almost overwhelming.

Victor was incredible, amazing, so much more than Yuri could believe would ever be interested in him, yet that truth faced him every day. Even on days like this, when Victor looked up at him like he hung the stars in his sky.

“I should feed Makkachin.” Hearing her name, she lifted her head again, mouth opening in a canine grin.

Victor hummed his agreement, pressing his face into Yuri’s hand once more before gently pulling away. “Will you join me after? With the soup?” He lifted the mug with its steaming miso, as if the clarification was needed.

“Sure.” Yuri inclined his head toward Victor, patting his hand against his thigh when he turned to head back to the kitchen. “Come, Makkachin. Time for dinner.”

He mixed Makkachin her kibble drizzled in water and topped with chunky wet food, measuring out her nightly glucosamine to stir in with all the rest. Setting it into her food holders, he picked up her water and rinsed out that bowl before setting it back down next to the dog happily devouring her dinner. He’d take her out for a walk in about half an hour, but until then, he had a sick boyfriend to sit with, sipping soup in companionable silence. Settling next to Victor on the sofa with his own mug of miso in hand, Yuri accepted the portion of blankets Victor offered to him. He blew on the surface of his miso, enjoying the way the steam twisted and twirled, inhaling the scent of childhood nostalgia with his eyes closing in happy bliss.

“This is really good,” Victor said after his first tentative sip, going slow to give his stomach time to settle or object. 

“I’m glad. Let me know if you want any more.”

Victor hummed another acknowledgement, avoiding moving his head overmuch. The quiet they settled into was interspersed with the sounds of Makkachin lapping water from her bowl and the music, now playing through Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. Yuri closed his eyes, appreciating the moment and warmth of company. Makkachin rejoined them, the sound of her coming followed by her grunt as she settled down on her bed, breathing out in a sigh.

A weight on his shoulder startled him into opening his eyes, blinking as he looked over to see Victor resting his forehead against Yuri.

“Tired?”

Victor sighed, turning into a wordless grumble. 

“Mm, time to get you back into bed, I think.” Victor protested with another wordless groan, but after Yuri relieved him of his empty mug and set it to the side along with Yuri’s mug, he tried on a smile.

“Sorry about this,” he said, and Yuri shook his head.

“Don’t be. It’s in sickness and in health, isn’t it?”

Yuri realised his mistake in the same moment he saw Victor realise what Yuri had said. He was already helping Victor stand, so he couldn’t use his hands to flail off and defend against his slip of the tongue. He was about to see if he could salvage it by turning it into a joke, half expecting Victor to be on that wavelength already.

Instead he saw Victor’s wide, round eyes, and a suspicious wateriness that Yuri personally knew all too well.

“Yuuuuriiiii,” Victor whined, voice breaking halfway through his elongation of Yuri’s name, “Just like a wedding vow!”

“I just, I meant that I would of course want to help, we’re dating, and I mean dating’s about seeing if you want to marry someone, at least I think it can be, or it’s supposed to be, but that’s, I…”

His rambling defense was met with Victor clinging onto him, leaning too much of his weight on Yuri. Yuri braced himself, arms tight around Victor to keep him standing. Victor shivered in his arms, almost like when the chills set on him the night before. “Victor?” Concern blossomed through Yuri, taking embarrassment and want and turning it into a sick, cold thing. “Victor, what’s wrong?”

Victor shook his head, clinging to Yuri, head pressed against the side of his neck. He felt something warm and wet, for a bizarre moment wondering if Victor had started drooling, or if his nose was running. 

“Not wrong. Happy.” Victor breathed in, breath catching in his throat. His exhalation was long and unsteady, voice quiet. “So happy.”

He was also so ill, not yet recovered; Yuri finding the sudden swing of Victor toward this kind of emotion doing funny things to his chest. Was it just him having trouble breathing, or was that because of how tightly Victor held onto him? He swallowed, resting his cheek against the top of Victor’s head. 

“I’m happy too,” he said at last. “I’ll be even happier when you’re feeling better. Bed, Victor.”

Victor let himself be led back to their bedroom and tucked into the cool sheets, shivering as he curled up on his side of the bed. “Cold,” he whined, Yuri pulling the sheet and comforter higher, over Victor’s shoulders. 

“It’ll warm up soon,” he said, and he made it a promise, gentle as he brushed fingers through Victor’s hair. “Sleep. You’ll be able to work on the Watanabi’s photos soon.”

Victor sighed, closing his eyes and making an unidentifiable noise. His shivering slowed, Yuri sitting at the side of his bed with a hand resting over Victor’s side until they’d stopped entirely.

“G’night, Yuri.”

“Goodnight, Victor.” He stroked his hand down over Victor’s side, on top of the comforter, and pushed up to his feet. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Victor cracked open an eye, peering up at Yuri where he stood. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Yuri only shook his head, feeling warmth and a kind of certainty deep in his bones. “You were you.”

“Mm,” Victor said, letting his eye close again. “And you were you.”

Those words stayed with Yuri even after he’d closed the bedroom door and gathered up his things to take Makkachin for her walk, keeping his heart warm even as the cold nipped at his nose and ears.

 _And you were you_. Some days, Yuri could even feel like that was enough for him, too.


	3. inspiration strikes in golden light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor is struck by inspiration when taking test photos of Yuri while he's skyping with his family.

“Do you mind?”

Yuri glanced up from his laptop, blinking as he registered the camera held in Victor’s hands. Victor had waited for a lull in his conversation with his parents, offering a close-lipped smile when Yuri ultimately shook his head and looked toward the ceiling.

“Right _now?_ ” Fond exasperation in Yuri’s voice, Victor was sure of it. 

“Yep.” Victor grinned then, feeling Yuri was already inclined to say yes. It’d taken time for Yuri to believe Victor had any personal interest in photographing him, specifically, but once he had, he largely seemed to enjoy the process. Victor knew it had more to do with how visibly happy it made him than with Yuri enjoying the near endless candids and occasional poses Victor coaxed him into.

He could take photographs of Yuri every day until he died and be a happy man.

Yuri sighed, lips curling up into a smile as he shook his head. “Fine, if you _must_.”

“I must, I must,” Victor said, enjoying the sound of Yuri’s soft laugh before his attention was focused on the screen.

Victor was learning Japanese, but nowhere as fast as he liked. He supposed immersion would fix that, but there wasn’t a real chance to do an extended stay in Japan right now. Yuri had to finish his thesis and officially graduate; Victor couldn’t run off with him without taking Makkachin along too. 

In the meantime it meant supplemental lessons from online sources and practicing simple conversations with Yuri. It also meant listening to Yuri’s conversations with his parents and sister, gaining a sense of meaning and the cadence of the words over time. He’d already said his hellos in Japanese, leaving Yuri to his extended conversation without Victor hovering over his shoulder.

For the most part.

Victor adjusted his new lens, playing with the focus in the afternoon light slanting in through the windows. He appreciated the way the light caressed Yuri’s face, leaving him outlined in a stark halo from some angles, basked in a warm glow from others.

There was no angle he could find that made Yuri anything less than enchanting in his eyes.

“Beautiful,” he said to himself, voice barely more than a mumble. Yuri seemed to hear him anyway, eyes flicking his direction as Victor took another test shot, deciding to change aperture value after. He lowered it an eighteenth of a fraction, smiling in Yuri’s direction as he took another picture.

Yuri was a man who wore so many emotions in his face, sang them through his body. Emotion was too intense for him sometimes, or perhaps even too often: Yuri felt so much, it could be overwhelming. Victor hadn’t understood that at first, not he of more focused feelings, of a lifetime of self-taught reliance that had left him isolated from the empathy for others he’d known as a child.

He only had himself to blame. By the time he realised he didn’t have the energy to keep reinventing himself on his own, that borrowing against himself for the sake of keeping a professional facade was a hollow battle, he’d stumbled across Yuri.

Yuri, who knew Victor’s order after a week of admittedly repeat appearances ordering variations on the same theme; Yuri who had adored Makkachin long before he’d allowed himself to adore Victor. Yuri who could smile like he was now, almost rueful, talking with parents he hadn’t seen in person for close to five years. How five different emotions would play out across his body in the course of five minutes, laughter, then an almost wheedling tone, followed by something wistful.

_The post-graduation trip is going to be perfect._

Victor picked his way around the room, watching Yuri through the lens of his camera. Victor loved seeing the world this way, the challenge of capturing what he saw and translating the emotion of a moment to film. Even if he rarely used actual film these days; most of that was for personal indulgence projects, when he could afford to borrow the dark room on one of the smaller community college campuses.

He supposed the challenge of capturing moments that passed almost as soon as they happened was part of why he’d fallen into wedding photography. He knew what to ask for, how to direct people, had learned how to juggle people stressed on wedding jitters and managed to find a skin-deep level of tolerance for people bursting into spontaneous tears of joy anywhere around him when he was on the job. He excelled at candids as much as those moments always inevitably demanded, corralling friends and family into portraits committing their attendance to personal history.

He thrived on it, the challenge of coming home after and pouring over thousands of photographs to find the few hundred deemed acceptable by his own standards. Yet what he loved were moments like these, when unguarded emotion lay visible on another’s face, in their body language, in the tilt of their head, the splay of their fingers, the direction of their gaze.

Yuri was his favourite muse. Makkachin was a close second, but he had twelve years worth of carefully stockpiled photos of her on his backup drives. His apartment was littered with photographs of her and Yuri now, but with Yuri, there was so much catching up to do.

_I wonder if Hiroko will show me any of Yuri’s photos from when he was growing up. Surely they have a few._ He’d figure out how to ask before they visited, and ask properly, in Japanese. The world wide web couldn’t fail him now.

Victor realised he’d stop taking photos and started simply watching Yuri after a while. He smiled, laughing to himself. Yuri managed to distract him without trying. Victor wouldn’t want it any other way.

The light continued to change as the sun came closer and closer to setting. It was as Yuri was bidding his parents goodbye that Victor found it: the photograph he most wanted to take. He was down on a knee, almost on level with Yuri, the softened light caressing his skin. Yuri smiled down at his laptop, eyes soft behind his glasses, visible without a glare from this angle. There was a simple, heartbreaking love in his features; from the rounded slope of his shoulders to the almost shy tuck of his chin in toward his chest. It was a wistful, fond expression, awash in the afternoon’s golden glow, shadows stark beyond where Yuri sat in the light.

Victor snapped a quick succession of photographs, pulling his eye back from the viewfinder to fiddle with settings, flipping the video viewfinder around. He switched the camera into display mode, running his thumb over the dial to scan between the last few photos, considering.

Yuri was beautiful. Classically beautiful, as far as Victor was concerned, but he was beautiful in a way that was beyond physicality in this shot. He embodied the warmth Victor felt in his own chest whenever he thought about Yuri, or even when he thought about Makkachin. Yuri _was_ love, was the wistful nostalgia and hope for reunition, one day.

Victor tapped his finger on the viewing screen, an expression of wonder crossing his features.

“My parents wished you good luck with the upcoming shoots, Victor.” Yuri looked his way, giving him a soft smile and a confused glance. “Are you okay?”

Victor nodded his head, slow and reverential. “I’m fine. Perfect. Wonderful. Yuri,” he said, looking up to capture his eyes with his own. “You remember how I’m supposed to be showing at Chris’s gallery in the next few months?”

It wasn’t specifically Chris’s gallery; in truth, it belonged to his fiance and his fiance’s mother, but the details felt irrelevant right then. 

“Yes?” Yuri’s acknowledgement came across as slow, questioning.

“I want to show this there. My whole theme needs reworking, I know that now, but this,” he said, holding up his camera and turning it around so that the viewing screen was shown to Yuri, “This is what I want there.”

Yuri’s hesitation was clearly broadcasted, his brow furrowed as he pressed his lips into a thin line. There were levels of embarrassment Yuri could cope with without blinking too much; he didn’t look away from the photos of himself now hanging in their apartment, though he’d demanded that there be more of all three of them together. (Victor had enthusiastically, laughingly complied.) He’d flat out refused to be visible in any of the prints Victor sold through the cafe, which Victor had expected. He’d never pushed for anything more than what was around them at home and the photobook he was creating for Yuri’s parents, for when they formally met.

He was asking for something big now. Victor knew it; Yuri knew it, shoulders tensing as he stood up and slowly shuffled over. 

The silence was light between them, Victor hopeful as Yuri continued to not quite frown. He held his camera up higher, inviting Yuri to take it himself, watching as Yuri studied the small viewscreen.

“You really want to use this?” he said at last, forehead smoothing over. He lifted his gaze to look past the camera, meeting Victor’s eyes. “This is just a random shot you took while I was talking with my parents.”

Victor smiled, feeling a surge of affection coursing through him, softening the lines of his face. “Aren’t you going to ask me what my new theme is?”

“Victor.” Yuri gave him a flat stare for a beat of his heart, sighing out through his nose when he realised Victor wouldn’t answer until Yuri had played along. “Okay, fine. What’s your new theme going to be that you want to use a photograph of me so badly for it?”

“Life,” Victor said, reaching out to brush his fingertips over the back of Yuri’s hand, “And love.” He swallowed, nervous and elated all at once, giddy on the feeling of inspiration that had flooded through him in the moment where he saw what he’d captured through his camera’s lens. “So to answer your question, Yuri, yes, I really do. I want to use this photograph of you because when I see it, I feel love, right here,” he said, pressing his left hand to his chest. “All the love I know you feel for your parents, while you sit here, thousands of miles away, surrounded by their warmth in the sunlight all around you.”

He was waxing poetic and knew it; Victor had that tendency, depending on his mood, and almost always for his art and for his poorly worded confessions to Yuri. It’d led to some interesting misunderstandings earlier on, and would lead to more in the future. He was wise enough to expect that, and wiser still to know they’d manage to handle those times, too. He studied Yuri’s face, saw him swallow thickly and drop his gaze away, eyes blinking rapidly.

He should have predicted the tears, but he hadn’t.

“Oh, Yuri, Yuri, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I won’t use the photo, I promise, it was just an idea—”

“No!” Yuri blurted out, stepping forward and crouching down to Victor’s level, setting Victor’s camera gently on the ground. “No, Victor, that’s not it.” Yuri rubbed the back of a wrist under his eyes, knocking his glasses upward as he did. “I just don’t know how you do it.” Yuri dropped his hand away from his face, eyes watering, an errant track of tears making roadways down his cheek. “You capture things with your camera that mean so much, and you say things like this, and I believe you, I do. I don’t know how you find all of that in me, but if you say you do, if this is what you want, then _yes_ , Victor. _Yes_ you can use this photo for your gallery show.” 

Yuri cracked a tremulous smile, fingers flexing, curling into his palms. “Life and love, huh?”

Victor held himself back for the time it took Yuri to find his words, then crashed into him, pulling him into a near-crushing hug. “Oh, _Yuri_ ,” he said, repeating himself from earlier, with a far different emotion. “That’s what you are to me.”

Victor felt Yuri’s arms wrap around him too, Yuri wheezing out a breath already unsteady from his fight _not_ to cry. He’d win that battle, or so Victor supposed, because Yuri was nothing if not stubborn. Not that Victor minded the tears so much when he knew they weren’t born out of pain or anger or distress. He relaxed his grip on Yuri, still holding him close. 

Yuri breathed in again, more steady than before. “Same. It’s the same for me,” he said.

Victor didn’t think he could feel any more happy than having Yuri agree to Victor’s sudden request. Victor was wrong. As he continued holding Yuri close, the affection and gratitude in his chest threatened to choke his words in his throat, his eyes suspiciously burning for three or so beats of his heart. “Thank you,” he said, meaning it for both Yuri’s agreement and for his words right then. “Thank you, Yuri.”

They clung to each other like that until Makkachin politely scratched at the door, whining as she asked to be taken outside. Victor pulled back, steadying Yuri by the shoulders. They smiled at each other, both breaking into soft laughter as Makkachin whined again, more pointedly this time.

“We should probably take her on her walk now,” Yuri said.

“Yeah, we should.” Victor stood up, offering Yuri a hand to help pull him back to his feet as well. Yuri accepted, still smiling, wiping at his cheek.

“I’ll get her leash.” Yuri made the offer without moving. Victor nodded, also remaining where he stood.

“That’d be good.”

“Very good.”

“We should probably get our coats, too. It’s a chilly day out there.”

“Closer to a chilly night now.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Victor leaned forward only to find Yuri leaning forward too, meeting him in a kiss just a little salty from Yuri’s happy tears. By unspoken agreement they both pulled back, still smiling, and parted ways to get ready for Makkachin’s walk.

Yuri couldn’t wipe the happy smile off his face the entire walk, though he did try, nominally enough. 

Victor didn’t even bother trying.


	4. cafe reflections and sleepy nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor meets Yuri at the end of his shift to walk him home; they crash early in spite of other intentions.

“One latte, coming up.” 

Victor, interrupted in his attempt to feed Yuri portions of a mandarin he’d presented like it was made of gold when he’d first arrive, smiled. Makkachin was currently holding down the table out in front of the cafe, leash tied to a chair she could well take off with if she had the idea to do so. Victor knew it. _Yuri_ knew it. 

Makkachin had done as much before.

Yet she was behaving resting there on her blanket, and Victor was looking down at the familiar heavy white porcelain mug Yuri had slid his way across the counter. To his delight he saw a white heart stood out against the umber of his coffee. Yuri smiled when Victor looked up to meet his eyes.

Victor remembered the first time Yuri had done this, like he remembered so many of firsts with Yuri. The first time Yuri didn’t kick him out of the cafe, even if it meant locking Victor inside with him as he finished closing. That time might have actually been an accident, Yuri frantic with apologies and blushing an overwhelming red, but Victor had found it endearing nonetheless.

It was a calm afternoon stretching into a calm evening; Yuri was filling in a shift for one of his coworkers, following a meeting he’d had with his academic supervisor on campus. He didn’t have to close, which was what Victor had been unashamed of wheedling to ensure remained _true_ , which meant that Victor was here for the last half hour or so before accompanying Yuri home.

To their home.

He didn’t think that feeling would ever be less than warming.

“Thank you, Yuri.”

Yuri hummed an acknowledgement, finally leaning forward to delicately accept the still offered slice of mandarin with his teeth. For a moment in time, they were both there, leaning over the counter from their opposing sides.

Then Yuri pulled back, sucking the mandarin slice into his mouth and winking. “ _Mmm._ ” He swallowed, Victor feeling his mouth go dry. “Delicious.”

Victor chuckled, licking his lips. He brought his fingers back to his mouth, pressing a kiss to them. “Agreed.”

Yuri’s cheeks gained a hint of colour as he turned away, picking up his rag to wipe down an already clean counter. “Makkachin’s going to get lonely out there on her own. I’m off in another half hour or so.”

VIctor hummed a non-answer, leaving the rest of the mandarin sitting in the middle of the imperfect flower he’d made of its skin. He nudged it across the counter toward Yuri, then wrapped his hands around his mug and flashed him a smile.

Yuri wasn’t so kind as to turn around and see it, but Victor could fancy Yuri might catch a hint of it in his glasses. It wasn’t the most ludicrous thought he’d had.

“She’ll be sad you’re not joining us,” he said instead, enjoying the heat spreading into the bones of his hands. “She likes you best, you know.”

Victor winked, Yuri breathing out in a snort as he finally looked back over his shoulder to meet Victor’s gaze. “Oh, I know.”

Victor carried his laughter out the door, clucking his tongue at Makkachin as he settled into the chair nearest to her lounging form. She lifted her head, grunting as she watched him sit down. Content, she lay her head back down, wagging her tail once, twice, then letting it fall still.

She resettled against his feet later, while he took sips of his latte and watched Yuri through the glass. His coworker, a younger man who Victor didn’t remember the name of, worked on cleaning the display case. Yuri helped the older couple who wandered in; people Victor had smiled at when they exclaimed over Makkachin before entering the cafe.

He remembered the first time he stopped by this cafe, weeks before he’d run into Yuri. He’d liked the atmosphere, had dropped off a business card for the manager when she hadn’t been in. The smaller local businesses were the ones he usually spoke with to see if they might allow him to display his cards, maybe some of his photography prints worth selling. He’d stopped by a time or two, usually with Makkachin in tow.

The first time he’d seen Yuri, it’d been at closing. The sight of a man in his early twenties dancing with the mop under the bright lights, behind the glass windows and glass door. Makkachin had pulled at her leash before stopping to look back at him, wondering why her owner had stopped moving.

Victor hadn’t lingered for long. Just enough to find himself wondering who it was that danced through his closing duties, mouth moving like he might have been singing along to music that Victor couldn’t hear. He wanted to hear. Lips twitching up into a small smile, he shook his head, spoke to Makkachin, and resumed their walk.

A flight of fancy.

Nothing more.

Yuri had danced through Victor’s thoughts off and on the next few days, danced through his dreams, probably, for all Victor rarely remembered those. Curiosity had outweighed everything else when he’d finally stopped by again, later in the afternoon, but well before closing.

Yuri had been there, and Victor had first learned his name then, glancing at the pin on his shirt.

“What’s your name?” Yuri had asked, juggling the rush of people who’d been coming through the doors since before Victor arrived.

“Victor,” Victor had said, lips pulling up into a silly smile. “What’s yours?”

Yuri had simply stared at him. It was a stupid question and he knew it. Victor smiled anyway, and Yuri’s gaze dropped, studying the marks he continued to make on the side of Victor’s disposable cup. “... Yuri?” he said at last, passing the cup off to the side counter, where another barista was making drinks. 

“Yuri,” Victor said, rolling the _u_ as he folded his change in half, tucking the extra bills and coinage into the tip container. “Thank you, Yuri.”

Yuri had simply moved on to helping the next customer, shoulders stiff, cheeks flushed. They’d been flushed before speaking with Victor; only later would Victor suspect that maybe, _maybe_ , Yuri had also been blushing.

Back then, he’d just been glad to know his name.

He licked foam off his upper lip as he drained the last of his latte, setting the empty mug down on the latticework table. He leaned over, scratching his fingers through Makkachin’s curls, over the hair that had been shaved down lower at her shoulders. He’d adjusted to the look; found it charming, albeit unexpected. Yuri had apologised for that error in grooming for weeks. Victor finally took to threatening Yuri with kisses if he apologised one more time.

Victor had kissed him for the fifteen attempts at further apologies Yuri had offered. He figured that wasn’t entirely an accident on Yuri’s part. He didn’t need excuses to shower Yuri with affection, but he didn’t mind having a playful claim to follow through on.

He brought his empty mug back inside as he saw Yuri removing his apron; bringing it to the counter instead of setting it in the dish collection tub, presently empty. The second person working closing arrived as Yuri stepped out from behind the counter, calling out her polite hello as she ducked under the counter and popped up next to her remaining coworker.

“Hey Yuri! Victor! Have a good night.”

“Thank you, Sara. See you on Wednesday next week?”

She nodded and waved him off, picking up the empty mug on the counter and heading for the dish-washing sink tucked into the back room.

Yuri collected his coat from the back, shrugging into it and bundling himself up. He’d forgotten his scarf again, Victor tugging at the one around his neck as they headed out into the chillier air.

“Here, Yuri.” He held out his scarf, draping it around Yuri’s neck with a soft smile.

Yuri shot him a look of consternation, hands coming up to rest over Victor’s where they held the ends of the scarf. “Victor, I don’t want to be taking your scarf.”

Victor offered little more than a shrug, letting go of the scarf and turning his hands so he could take hold of Yuri’s hands in turn. “I don’t want you getting cold,” he said, trying to be reasonable.

“You were the one sick with the flu not that long ago,” Yuri said in turn, tone of voice caught between dry and conversational. 

Victor shot him a guileless grin in return, lifting Yuri’s hands and pressing a kiss to the knuckles on each in turn. “And you nursed me back to health. I’m now immune for the rest of winter. The scarf stays with you, please?”

Yuri breathed out in an amused huff of resignation, expression fond and mild in its exasperation. “I’ll consider it.”

They retrieved the end of Makkachin’s leash from the leg of a chair, Victor folding her blanket and shoving it into the bag he’d carried it there in. He offered his arm to Yuri, smiling when Yuri accepted. He took Makkachin’s leash when Yuri handed it off, then found himself with half of his scarf wrapping around his neck. Yuri shot him a stubborn look, pressing in close against Victor’s side after.

“I don’t want you catching cold,” he said, brow furrowed in that way Victor knew meant there wasn’t room for argument. Yuri had made up his mind. Truth told, Victor felt a burst of affection and warmth at the gesture, breath catching in his throat.

Only Yuri. Only Yuri would be like this.

Victor inclined his head forward, laughing and squeezing Yuri’s arm with his own. “You’ll have to stay close to me to make this work.”

“I know.”

“We’ll practically have to cuddle the whole way home.”

“That’s highly impractical,” Yuri said, and Victor pretended to consider this as they started walking, arms linked, Makkachin ambling along at his other side.

“Maybe, but it’s also so _satisfying_ ,” he said at last, provoking a snorting laugh out of Yuri.

“And likely to make us fall! Think of poor Makkachin, she doesn’t deserve to be dragged down because her people can’t stay on their feet.”

“Oh, but Yuri, all I want to do is sweep you off yours! Especially after hours of standing.” Victor leaned in, bumping his shoulder against Yuri’s.

Yuri leaned back against the gentle pressure. “Ice is more likely to do that to both of us in this weather, and I don’t want to add a bruised tailbone to my lists of aches for the night.”

“Hm, you may have a point. I guess I’ll just have to cuddle you twice as hard when we get home.”

Yuri hunched his shoulders, smiling into the half of Victor’s scarf still wrapped around his neck. “I think Makkachin might object to that, too.”

“There’s enough room on the sofa for three,” he said archly, but the twitch of his lips into another fond smile betrayed his amusement. “We’ve been meaning to watch that one movie. We have leftovers, blankets, a really comfortable sofa perfect for cuddling…”

With a laugh, Yuri allowed Victor to talk him into a low-key evening, the walk back to their apartment leaving them both feeling warmer and energised. It lasted until about after they’d fed Makkachin and Victor managed to heat up leftovers while Yuri hopped into the shower. Victor managed a bowl of stove-top popped popcorn (Yuri’s specialty, with crumbled nori and black pepper and ground seasalt all tossed in with real melted butter) before they settled down in a nest of blankets on the sofa to watch whatever streaming film had caught their eyes weeks ago. They’d barely gotten through their reheated leftovers and a handful or two of popcorn before Victor felt his eyelids growing heavy. Yuri was leaning ever more heavily on Victor’s shoulder, exhaustion crashing over him.

Victor managed to set the popcorn onto the side-table, coaxing Yuri’s glasses off and folding them neatly to place them beside the popcorn. “Bed?” he asked, nuzzling the top of Yuri’s head, breathing in the scent of Yuri’s shampoo and its underlying hint of coffee, almost impossible to truly vanquish.

“Nngh.”

“Definitely bed.” Victor gave a tired chuckle, sliding off the sofa and coaxing Yuri out of their blanket nest to guide him back toward their bedroom. He pulled back the covers, nudging and encouraging Yuri to settle between the sheets. About to join him, he stopped when Yuri fixed him with a bleary eyed look and asked, “Glasses?”

Victor had to process the request before nodding, giving Yuri a brief, tired smile. “Right. Be right back.”

He padded back toward the living space, plucking Yuri’s glasses off the side-table. He diverted to the kitchen to fill a glass with water before calling Makkachin to him, starting back toward the bedroom. She followed, yawning as she ambled past him, looking for her bed at the foot of their own.

Yuri was already softly snoring by the time Victor returned. The easy peace on his face was achingly precious in the soft light in the darkness of their room. Victor smiled to himself, setting Yuri’s glasses on the table within reach for the morning. He walked around to the far side to set the water down, crawling under the blankets and cuddling up to Yuri’s soft warmth, slotting himself against Yuri’s back.

“Goodnight,” he said to his sleeping boyfriend, kissing the back of Yuri’s shoulder. “Sweet dreams.”

He had a feeling his would be.


	5. snow falls, desire rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor rearranges their living room so they can watch the snow falling on the lanai; Yuri accidentally stokes their mutual desire.

Victor had many romantic notions in his life. No, that wasn’t entirely correct. From what Yuri understood, Victor had only recently been indulging his romantic notions. For unfathomable reasons, all those notions focused around Yuri himself.

If he’d been asked anytime earlier in his life if he would find himself in love with the most beautiful man in the world, Yuri would have blinked, found the joke rather tasteless, the snorted as he dismissed it. Yuri wasn’t opposed to love. Yet there was so much else he was trying to achieve, so much of his time and energy sunk elsewhere, that even when he did notice his own attractions, that was the extent of things. He noticed, he fumbled and usually didn’t manage anything like flirting no matter _what_ his friends and co-workers said, and then he was mired down in school stress and bills and juggling to stay afloat.

Those days he used to dream of having his own dog, preferably a miniature poodle. One who’d curl up with him and liked walks at Yuri’s preferred pace, who’d give him an excuse to bake all sorts of doggie treats and brush out their hair and let him have a living, breathing, loving soul to pour his heart out to when the extent of what he felt would again become overwhelming.

In a way, he had that now with Makkachin. He loved her as much as Victor did, or at least as much as anyone could without being Victor. He’d concede that Victor might hold deeper affections. He’d seen how the two of them sit sometimes, Victor lost in his thoughts as he poured over his photographs, Makkachin resting her chin on his knee with his fingers stroking idly over the curve of her skull, scratching delightfully behind her ears.

Which was neither here nor there since tonight, Makkachin was curled up closer to the space heater, flopped on her side on the plaid bed Victor had bought to replace her older one. Victor was industriously applying himself to shifting the furniture of their living room, pulling the sofa away from the wall and nudging it closer and closer to the big sliding glass doors looking out on their lanai.

Their apartment sat on the top of a three story building; unlike the levels below, they had no overhead awning, exposing their lanai to the elements year round. Yuri didn’t think much about it beyond the technicalities. Victor had assured him early on he would handle the shoveling once the season hit; Yuri had equally firmly assured him he could handle one measly veranda’s worth of snowfall.

Victor laughed, relenting, though he’d still managed to be the one waking up early to take care of what little snowfall they’d had so far that year. Dratted man. Yuri smiled into his tea. Oh, how he loved him, scary as that thought was most days.

Scary and wonderful and all those descriptors he didn’t know how to use most the time.

Yuri didn’t fully understand the current drive that had Victor rearranging the furniture. He’d offered to help, but Victor had insisted this was a surprise _for_ Yuri, he should stand there, look unfairly appealing, and enjoy his tea.

He could manage the standing and the enjoyment of his tea. He’d have to leave the judgments on being unfairly appealing to Victor. In Yuri’s opinion, it was Victor who was unfairly appealing, all the time.

Even when reaching over from the back of a couch to peer out through the sliding glass doors and grunt at whatever he saw. Yuri didn’t know if it was the photographer in Victor, or simply Victor being Victor, but he appreciated the show when his casual lounge pants were pulled delightfully tight over his rear.

Really, Victor could keep bending over doing who knew what all night and Yuri would be pretty happy to stand there and enjoy the show. He took another sip of tea to distract himself, swallowing a happy noise that had more to do with the angle of Victor’s backside at present than the flavour of the tea.

“Yuri, I think we’re ready. Come sit down?” Victor shook out a throw blanket, the soft, fuzzy face of it a deep blue. Yuri was almost tempted to pointedly lean himself into Victor’s arms like that, but he could indulge Victor’s request. Scooting around the far end of the sofa, he sidled in front of Victor, lifting his eyebrows.

“Right here?”

Victor leaned forward, wrapping Yuri and his tea in a temporary cocoon of fuzzy blanket and Victor’s arms. “Right here,” he said with a smile, pressing a kiss to the tip of Yuri’s nose. 

Yuri wrinkled his nose, more for effect than anything else. Victor’s soft chuckle in response was all the reward Yuri could want. “Hard to do when I’m wrapped up like this.”

“If you weren’t holding your tea, I’d prove how wrong you were.” Victor pulled his arms and the blanket away, giving Yuri the space needed to sit down without spilling any of his tea. The blanket descended after him, settled over his lap while he held up his hands and arms to keep his mug above the level of the blanket.

“Be right back,” Victor said, almost sing-song as he retreated to the kitchen to grab his own mug of tea. Yuri was left to ponder his reflection in the glass, the darkness of the evening that lay beyond punctuated by the snow gathering on the lanai. Not much right now, but the storm they were experiencing was projected to last another day and a half. Up to thirty centimeters of snow by noon tomorrow.

He frowned, not looking forward to the chill when helping dig out the stairs in the morning. Victor insisted on shoveling the walkway too, something about their elderly neighbor on the ground level. Yuri didn’t mind that part. He was too used to those small gestures of hospitality from growing up that it was almost nostalgic.

Victor set his tea on the relocated side-table, leaning down to press a kiss to Yuri’s forehead and mutter, “One more sec.” He made a noise of acknowledgement, watching Victor move to the doors and flip the switch for their exterior light. It didn’t come on right away, taking time to warm up to its task of illumination.

Victor had time enough to settle down on the sofa, Yuri obligingly holding up a corner of the blanket with his free hand to invite Victor close. Victor took the invitation, reaching for his tea when the light flickered into existence.

Yuri’s gaze was pulled toward the sudden brightness, blinking as the dark was pushed further away from the threshold of their glass doors. In its stead was a steady, intoxicating fall of snow: heavy, fat flakes twisting and dancing downward in endless litany. He was hypnotized, feeling Victor settle more firmly against his side with a satisfied sigh, mug of tea held in one hand. The other found Yuri’s free hand, lacing fingers together to give Yuri’s hand a squeeze.

“Magical, isn’t it?”

“I can’t look away,” Yuri said, lips quirking up into an amused grin. The awe of his surprise lingered in his eyes; eyes he kept trained on the falling snow, each snowflake entering the frame only to come to a rest in the thin blanket of snow lining the wood of their lanai. “It feels so cosie being in here watching as it comes down.”

Yuri knew the feeling from evening jaunts dragging trash bins to the curb, seeing snow highlighted in the light of streetlamps and store windows. There was a particular silence that came with that kind of snow blanketing the landscape, as if everything were muffled, softened by sepia clouds and pristine white. It would all fade, dirt and grime coating the surface of snow that crusted over and crunched under booted feet. Until the next storm, the next period of time where the world was calm and cool and collected, like Yuri often wished he could be.

He leaned his head on Victor’s shoulder, burrowing down into the blanket. He felt calmer than he had been earlier in the day, when he was counting down the time left before he’d be back and working on his final semester, his thesis in its rough draft but never, ever feeling close to ready, close to done. Victor’s birthday had passed with a private celebration, and it was three days still until the New Year.

Not enough time and too much time, all at once. 

The snow damped that, Victor’s warm presence a balm for parts of Yuri’s soul that were prone to rough, jagged tears. 

“So you like it?”

Yuri had to parse what Victor had said before he could reply, humming an affirmation when words felt too far beyond him. Victor gave another firm squeeze of his hand, sipping at his tea. Then that, too, ceased, until it was just the two of them staring at the mesmerizing dance of snowflakes surrendering to the pull of gravity and wind, falling at diagonals toward the ground.

“Thank you,” Yuri said once he found words, turning to look at Victor. It meant dislodging Victor’s head and losing his comfortable perch against Victor’s shoulder, but the peace he found in Victor’s features made it worthwhile. “This was a good idea. Staring at all the snow we’re going to have to shovel in the morning…”

Victor chuckled, shifting so he could kiss Yuri’s cheek. “The snow falls even if we’re not looking. Why not enjoy the show? It doesn’t change the end result.”

Yuri didn’t know if he agreed, but he made a noise that might have been in affirmation anyway. He returned to leaning his head against Victor’s shoulder, Victor resting his head against Yuri’s in turn. They fell back into a comfortable silence, Yuri feeling himself lulled closer and closer to daydreams. He could picture so clearly the two of them stepping out into the snow; Victor tilting his head back and holding his arms up, inviting the snow, like he’d done that time they’d been caught out in a surprise rainstorm at the park.

_“Yuri! Dance with me!”_

It’d been a silly request, Victor bedraggled and soaked with his white shirt plastered to his skin, buds of his nipples an obvious indication of the chill he’d been feeling. Makkachin was enthusiastically splashing into a puddle, snapping at the water shooting up from beneath her paws. Victor had swept into a bow, holding out his hand, fingers curled just so, waiting for Yuri to abandon the shelter of the tree he’d found.

He had, not without grumbling, but he’d smiled through it all. Laughed giddily when Victor had pulled him close and lead him into a series of steps that could have been anything. Yuri followed along, stumbling and supported by Victor. When he’d found his footing for sure, he’d taken over the lead, and they’d spun each other around as they danced across the gravel pathway next to the pond with its ducks and resident pair of black swans.

 _“They mate for life, you know.”_ Victor had told him that the first time they’d seen the swans, followed soon after by, _“Swans can be territorial and aggressive over their nests, though. Makkachin learned that the hard way.”_

Watching the hypnotic fall of snow outside, Yuri could too easily imagine them standing there under the swirling snowflakes, bundled in their coats and boots and gloves, Yuri holding out one hand and inviting Victor to dance.

He startled out of his daydream as Victor shifted, pulling Yuri half onto his lap. “Are you done with that?” Victor asked, gesturing to Yuri’s partly full mug. All cold now; Yuri hummed and handed Victor his mug without protest. He squirmed some, making himself comfortable, resting his weight evenly in Victor’s lap. He didn’t want to end up causing only one of Victor’s legs to fall asleep.

With the cups set aside, Victor was free to wrap his arms around Yuri, cradling him against his chest. They continued to watch the snow, Yuri feeling Victor breathing, eyelids growing heavy until he was sitting there, eyes closed.

He wasn’t tired, but he was relaxed enough to appreciate this quiet between them, staying close as the world outside temporarily left them in peace.

“Do you remember our first date?”

Yuri licked his lips, yawning in spite of his better intentions. “The first date I knew was a date, or the first date where I didn’t believe it could possibly have been a date?”

He could hear the smile in Victor’s voice after he chuckled, kissing the side of Yuri’s head. “Our very first date, when you came with me to photograph Makkachin running through the wildflowers.”

“When I introduced her to pupsicles.”

“When you wooed her from my side, yes.” 

They shared a moment of laughter, low and quiet. Makkachin snored from where she slept on her bed, provoking further laughter, but nothing quite approaching levels of the hysterical.

When their laughter subsided, Yuri continued the thread of their earlier conversation. Curiosity was a powerful motivator. “I remember our first date. What about it?”

“It was wonderful.” Victor stated it as a fact; Yuri remembered it as being equal parts wonderful and awkward, interspersed with moments made uncomfortable by unfamiliarity and sudden brushes against boundaries neither of them had expected. 

Then again, awkwardness could come hand in hand with his anxiety on bad days. Overall, it had been wonderful indeed.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling and closing his eyes. “I was so nervous you wouldn’t like the picnic lunch I’d made, or that I’d be worse than useless with the photoshoot.”

“I almost proposed on the spot when we ate. Held off when I decided that might have been coming on too strong.” Victor, who Yuri later accepted had never been all that subtle about his interest at all in the first place.

It was enough to make Yuri snort, and he did, reaching one hand up to pat Victor’s cheek. “I know how subtle you can choose to be. I don’t think you were trying all that hard at all.”

“After nine months, Yuri, I was trying to figure out how to be even _more_ obvious, not less.” Victor nuzzled his nose against Yuri’s hair, breathing in deep, then out through his mouth. The wash of heat against his scalp send a shiver down Yuri’s spine, heat sparking through his core.

“Yes, well.” Yuri huffed, squirming in Victor’s lap. “It didn’t make any sense to me that you’d be _interested_. You were nice to everyone, and you had a perfect dog, and you were so attractive…”

Victor groaned, Yuri presuming it was in longstanding amused exasperation at Yuri’s chronic misinterpretations of all Victor’s overtures. Until Victor’s groan cut off with a sudden, sharp inhalation, Victor shifting under Yuri— _oh_. “My sun, my stars, my sky, if you keep doing that, I’m going to have a very different proposal to make for how two people might stay warm on a long, cold winter night in the middle of a snowstorm.”

Yuri considered this for a half second, the dreamy atmosphere he’d been drifting through sharpening into possibilities and a thrill tingling along his nerves. He swallowed, eyes alight with warmth and desire and mischief all at once.

Yuri cuddled closer to Victor, slipping an arm around Victor’s neck. He’d changed angle to have a better shot at giving Victor a proper kiss on the lips, though he held off for now, nuzzling close to Victor’s ear.

“I’d love to hear your different proposal, Vitya. Very, very much.”

He heard Victor swallow, arms tightening around Yuri and hips shifting just enough to be suggestive. “I see,” Victor said. “Then I suggest we find our way back to the bedroom, Yuka, and I’ll get right on it.”

With a startled snort of amusement, Yuri pressed a kiss to the corner of Victor’s mouth. He could see Victor’s smile along with the heat in Victor’s gaze. He dropped his voice lower in return, looking at Victor through his lashes.

“Good. I was counting on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... then ends there instead of getting into actual mature/explicit ratings, laughs


	6. a backward proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor tries to comfort Yuri after a long day; Yuri ends up proposing.

When Victor arrived home, the apartment was flooded with delicious scents and Yuri, standing in the middle of their kitchen, covered in flour. There wouldn’t be a problem between these two facts if it weren’t for the additional details: Makkachin sitting at the edge of the kitchen whining every so often, the delay in response time from Yuri as he processed Victor’s verbal greetings, the stiffness of Yuri in his arms when Victor wrapped him in a hug, his chest pressed to Yuri’s back.

“Bad day?” he asked, kissing Yuri’s cheek and tasting flour. Almond flour.

“Huh? Oh, hey.” Yuri leaned back into Victor, shoulders still tense. Some days he wanted to be held when he was like this. Most days, really. Sometimes all Yuri seemed to want was space.

Victor was getting better at reading the differences between the two. “Hey. What’ve you been making?” Glancing toward the counter and its cooling racks and stacks of cooling baked goods, he revised his question. “What _haven’t_ you been making?”

Yuri laughed, weak as it sounded, bringing his hands up to hold onto Victor’s arms. “Dinner, I think. I just needed…” He nodded his head toward the counter, the bowls, the oven. “You know.”

Victor hummed acknowledgement in the back of his throat, resting his head against the side of Yuri’s. “I’m going to be the fattest, happiest photographer.” He paused, lips pulling up into a brief, self-amused smile. “Too bad I can’t manage to grow a decent beard. I could have been Santa Claus.”

With a snort, Yuri leaned back into him more fully, Victor anchoring them both in place. “You don’t even celebrate Christmas,” he said. Victor nodded, acknowledging the point.

“No, but it might have been fun anyway. Having all those children ask for things like digital cameras and bluetooth flashes and new computer monitors…”

“So all the things you were asking for?”

“Hey, I think the monitors were the both of us.”

Yuri sighed, closing his eyes. “I’d settle for being done with school already.”

Which was the crux of today’s problem, in Victor’s guess. He squeezed Yuri in his arms, pressing another kiss to his cheek. Then another, and another. “You’re almost there, and then you’ll be a brilliant young man who makes magic in the kitchen _and_ in musical composition.”

“To what end? I’m not going to try for a post-doctorate, the more I deal with academia the less I want to stay here forever.”

Yuri had said as much before, Victor empathetic and somewhat confused. Then again, he’d never finished out University. Too expensive, and his own passion lead down different avenues. He learned from working with others and a few photography classes, but less of the whole structured school environment. Yuri had asked once if Victor had ever considered one of the photography degrees through university. Victor, quite honestly, had told him no. Not even when he’d been younger and learning the ropes of managing his own business and all the associated costs and personalities involved.

“You don’t need to,” Victor said, starting to gently rock from foot to foot. It wa a swaying motion that Yuri didn’t seem to mind, breathing in long and deep, then out with an equally long sigh. “You know there are different areas you could pursue. You’ve told me as much before. What about composing soundtracks? Background music?”

The groan out of his boyfriend sounded more resigned than anything else. “I mean I _can_ , but I don’t know if I _want_ to.”

“Hm… well, you could always settle into wedding video compositions. From low quality libraries and everything, with audiences who mostly want instrumental remakes of classics like _Every Breath You Take_ and _A Thousand Years_.”

The light smack on his arm was accompanied by a low scoff of amusement. “Christina Perri, Victor? Really?”

“I never said that was what I expected at our wedding, just what I’ve _heard_ at several weddings.” Not that he minded the sentiment. The song was rather neutral territory, but everything about wanting to be together, spending time and waiting being worth it, every time? He related to all of that, bound together with the man in his arms and the dog who had stealthily crept in to rest against the side of his leg. Makkachin had stopped whining not long after Yuri had stopped his frenetic movements around the kitchen, caught in Victor’s arms.

Yuri had fallen silent, stiffening again in Victor’s hold. Not enough to make Victor worry that he needed to let go; just enough for Victor to notice. He stopped their gentle swaying, turning his head to better catch a look at Yuri’s face from his close angle. “Yuri?”

When Yuri spoke, his voice was small and quiet, his eyes wide and searching. “Our wedding?”

Victor blinked away his confusion, thoughts catching up with him. He’d been joking to an extent, but Yuri’s manner told him he needed to be serious, fast. He loosened his hold and gently nudged Makkachin off his leg, moving himself around to Yuri’s front. He kept his arms loosely around him, hands pressed against his back. “Our wedding. If you’ll have me in addition to Makkachin. I’d marry you tomorrow, if that wouldn’t send you running and make me sound like I’m some kind of wedding nut.”

Yuri’s expression remained vulnerable, caught between pleasure, then emotions harder for Victor to name. Yuri’s arms, which had been crossed over his chest, dropped down, hands finding Victor’s hips to hold him in place. His voice was still soft. “You make a living with wedding photography, Victor. You’re a little bit of a wedding nut.”

“Or a little bit nuts because of weddings,” he said, quirking his lips into a smile. “I love you, Yuri. I want to be by your side facing life every day, cheering you on the whole time. Is it any surprise that I’d want to marry you?”

Yuri’s eyed were tearing up, an event that no longer sent Victor into a flurry of disconcerted helplessness, like it had the first few times Yuri had cried around him. It hadn’t helped that most the time Victor knew it was his fault, if not his intention, and he really had no idea how to soothe away hurts for someone he cared about as deeply as he cared for Yuri. He’d been learning; so he leaned in, resting his forehead against Yuri’s as tears welled and started rolling down his cheeks.

“Normally people start with a proposal, you know,” Yuri said, bringing one hand to wipe messily at the tears staining one cheek. “Not just suddenly talking about their wedding soundtrack.”

“Normally people have rings when it comes to proposals, and I haven’t managed to get your mother to send me your grandfather’s ring yet,” Victor said softly, startled when that pulled a sobbing laugh out of Yuri. 

“She can’t,” Yuri said, pulling his head back and cupping both hands on either side of Victor’s face. “She’s already sent them to me.”

Victor’s heart skipped a beat, warmth blooming in his chest as two thoughts occurred simultaneously. Yuri’s grandfather had two rings (engagement and wedding rings, Victor assumed), and Yuri had already asked for the ring. The rings.

_Yuri had asked for his grandfather’s rings._

His eyes widened, mouth opening, no words coming out at first. Victor swallowed, feeling close to laughing in joy, arms tightening around Yuri. “Yuri, you…!”

“Me,” he said, laughing through the tears. Happiness overflowing; that’s what Victor saw. It’s what he felt, flowing from Yuri to him.

Victor pulled him into a kiss, lips to lips, passionate and tasting faintly of salt. Yuri’s hands wound through Victor’s hair, nails scraping against his scalp as he parted his lips, kissing Victor back with just as much passion. When Yuri pulled back, Victor wanted to follow after, chasing down another kiss, but the determination in Yuri’s eyes gave him momentary pause.

Then Yuri was tugging on Victor’s arm, pulling him back out of the kitchen, Makkachin following after. Victor swallowed as Yuri led him to the bedroom, feeling a sense of anticipation and heat that struck through his core, singing along his nerve endings. The anticipation gained a specific _heat_ as Yuri spun him around, Victor’s back to the bed.

“Sit, please.” 

Victor sat, rewarded by another kiss from Yuri. He made an involuntary noise of protest as Yuri stepped back and turned away, reaching out for him. Yuri caught his hand, bringing it up to his chest before giving Victor’s fingers a squeeze.

“I’ll be right back,” Yuri said, a brief smile curling his lips into a soft sort of smile. Then Victor’s hand was his own, and Yuri was out of reach, heading for their shared dresser. He watched Yuri dig through his sock and undergarments drawer, pulling out something intriguing in blue that Victor couldn’t remember seeing before. That curiosity fell to the wayside as Yuri pulled out a small cream box, clutching it in shaking hands as he turned to face Victor again.

Yuri bridged the distance between them, opening the box in his hands and spilling two rings into his cupped hand. They glinted in the low light spilling through the doorway from the kitchen; neither one of them had bothered turning on the bedroom lights.

“Yuri, I—”

“I love you,” Yuri said, interrupting with blurted words filled with so much emotion Victor found himself choking up and holding his breath. He knew his face was blank, settling into a kind of shock as the thought from earlier was becoming a visible reality. Even more so when Yuri went down on one knee, clutching the rings firm in his hand. 

He wasn’t shaking now. Not much; only when he was reaching out and taking Victor’s hand off his lap and holding it in his own did Victor feel the trembling in Yuri’s fingers.

“There’s so much you’ve given me since I met you. You’ve helped me see parts of my life and the people in it I didn’t realise I was taking for granted. You’ve… you’ve helped remind me that people believe in me, and in my successes. Even when I find it hard to believe in myself.” Yuri swallowed, cheeks darkening in a blush that Victor knew so well. “I don’t know how to say all the things you mean to me. I just know I want to keep you by my side, for the rest of this life, through everything. So I can remember to say thank you every day for everything you’ve given me, and so that one day, I’ll feel like I’ve given you half as much in return.” 

Fumbling one of the two rings until he held it between his thumb and forefinger, Yuri looked up, studying Victor’s face in brief before he slowly, carefully, slipped the gold band over Victor’s right ring finger. The metal was barely warmed by Yuri’s hand.

Victor’s fingers twitched, breathing out in a soft exhalation before pulling air back into his lungs. “Yuri…” Victor held out his other hand, asking for the second ring without words. Yuri turned his palm over, allowing the ring to fall from his hand into Victor’s. Victor closed his fingers over it, lifting his gaze to study Yuri’s face. His shoulders were set, his blush out in full force, his lips pressed together as he waited for Victor’s reply.

Victor wouldn’t keep him waiting. He’d never intentionally keep Yuri waiting, not on matters of the heart. 

“You’ve already given me more than I know how to say. You’re the sun in my life, Yuri. You’re who reminded me why life is beautiful, even when it’s hard. I love you.” He rolled Yuri’s grandfather’s ring between his thumb and forefinger, eyes dropping to Yuri’s hand, held out to him, trembling. Victor slipped the gold ring over his finger, sliding it past the second knuckle then letting his hand fall away.

The ring glinted, catching the light from beyond the door. Victor lifted his eyes, capturing Yuri’s gaze with his own.

They stayed that way for a few beats of their hearts before Victor pulled Yuri up into a hug, holding on to him so tightly Yuri was wheezing at first. Victor only relaxed his hold enough to give Yuri room to breathe, feeling Yuri wrap his arms around Victor’s chest in turn.

“Neither one of us has actually managed to propose yet, you know.”

Yuri laughed, soft and low, wet sounding. Victor wondered if he’d started crying again; a telling sniff confirmed that Yuri had. “Yeah, I know. I planned on asking after my graduation,” Yuri said, squeezing Victor tighter. “So much for that, I guess.”

Victor had to laugh at that, how precious Yuri was, how incredibly lucky Victor was that a man this amazing loved him. His throat was tight with how overwhelming his love was, the affection he showed so much better in actions and photographs than words warming him through and through. “Oh, I don’t know. I think that sounds nice. Except I don’t want to stop wearing this ring until then, so maybe we should get to the asking now.”

Yuri held onto him, nodding his head. Victor smiled, allowing his eyes to close. They did very few things conventionally, he supposed. He wouldn’t change that for the world.

“Yuri Katsuki, will you marry me?”

“Victor, you jerk, I was planning on asking _you_ ,” Yuri said with a strangled laugh, finally pulling back so they could see each other’s faces. 

Victor opened his eyes, keeping hold of Yuri, smile softening. “Okay, okay. I’ll be patient.” He’d been patient before. Waiting and hoping for what might have been impossible.

The impossible looked back at him through blue-rimmed glasses, face a mess of tears and flour and blushing cheeks and smiles and the sparkling determination in his eyes. “Victor Yakovlevich Nikiforov, will you marry me?”

He was surprised at how tight his chest felt when he nodded, swallowing to ease the tension in his throat. “Yes, Yuri Katsuki. I absolutely will marry you.”

With Makkachin looking on in happy confusion, Yuri threw himself into Victor’s arms with a wordless cry. Victor pulled Yuri up and collapsed back on the bed, holding him close. The two of them clung to each other, laughing, crying, peppering kisses over each other’s faces until the timer went off for the cake baking in the oven. Their goofy, happy smiles lasted until long after they fell asleep that night, curled up facing each other and holding hands wearing the symbol of their promise of forever, whatever that would bring.


	7. a poodle prescription

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor helps photograph poodle rescues for their organisation; Yuri meets Vicchan.

Yuri looked up from where he was washing their morning dishes to see Makkachin and Victor turning into the walkway, back from their morning walk. Victor had his phone out, talking. Yuri lost sight of him as he passed beyond where the window could see, setting the last of the dishes into the dishwasher and drying off his hands. By the time Victor was fumbling his keys at the door, Yuri was unlocking the deadbolt and opening it to let him and Makkachin inside.

“ _Welcome back_ ,” Yuri mouthed, smiling as Victor shot him a smile, following Makkachin in and crouching down to work the leash off her collar.

“No, that should be fine. Will two work for you?”

Yuri closed the door, lifting an eyebrow as Victor stood in the entry to finish his conversation.

“Okay, that’s great! We’ll see you then.” Another pause, and Victor laughed. “Yes, we are. No point in leaving her at home, she’ll never forgive us if we do.”

Yuri rubbed his upper arms, thinking over their afternoon plans. He was in a stay at home mood, which left him unappreciative of hearing himself volunteered to join Victor and Makkachin in an unknown errand with other people. 

“Yes, yes, I’ll have everything ready to go. If you get the list of everyone we’ll be working with done before we’re there—” Victor stopped speaking, lifting his eyes skyward as the person on the other end of the line spoke loud enough Yuri could almost understand them. “Yep, exactly. Got it. Two o’clock.” He dropped the phone down, hitting the end call button. Yuri simply waited, staring his fiancé down.

“What’re you volunteering me for today?”

Victor smiled, shoulders dropping as he ran a hand through his bangs, shoving them back off his face. His hair had grown out again. Yuri kind of loved it at this length; he kind of loved Victor’s hair in every style he worse.

Including apologetic, which he markedly wasn’t right then.

“Do you remember how I mentioned working with the poodle rescue group from down south every so often?”

“That sounds almost familiar.” Yuri straightened up, furrowing his brow in thought. “Aren’t they located an hour south of here?”

“Up in the mountains, yes. They asked if I’d come do a shoot of all the new dogs they have in to put them up on their website. Their usual person is out of town visiting family for the next few weeks, and the faster they can have nice photos online, the greater chances of everyone finding a home. Plus,” Victor said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “They have a litter of puppies from one of their fosters there today. I thought you might want to go.”

Yuri imagined puppies, rolling, happy, playful puppies, and tried to glare at Victor. He wasn’t even close to convincing, but he still tried to look like he was displeased with Victor’s assumption. He’d tell him it was rude to assume that Yuri would want to go and… “Take me to the puppies, Victor, and I may forgive you.”

Victor fought back a smile, shoving his phone in his coat pocket before stepping forward and hugging Yuri. “Puppies it is. You’ll love them, Yuri. I know it.”

Yuri grumbled, then laughed, giving up the act of displeasure. The brief irritation he’d felt had already fled in the face of _puppies_. Puppies he would get to play with, guilt free. When had that last happened?

… He couldn’t remember, which might have proven his point.

“I will, but really, when were you going to ask?”

“Once I was off the phone.” Victor squeezed him tight, letting go to step out of his shoes. “You don’t have to come, but I thought it could be a nice way to spend the afternoon. You, me, Makkachin, cute dogs as far as the eye can see, maybe a picnic…”

Yuri snorted, shaking his head as he gave in to Makkachin’s appeals for attention, crouching down and stroking over her poll and down her neck. “Who’s a good girl? Who’s the prettiest princess poodle? Who has a dad who’s slyly asking me to make us a picnic before we have to head out this afternoon? _You_ do, you do!”

Victor laughed, patting Makkachin’s haunches and then ruffling Yuri’s hair. Yuri batted his hand away in time to make it an attempt instead of a certainty. “Guilty as charged. Instruct me, Yuri, I’m your kitchen help for as long as you’ll have me. Let me make sure my batteries are charging and I’ll be back.”

“I’m holding you to that!” he called out to Victor’s back. Makkachin nosed closer and licked his cheek, nose nudging his glasses sideways. Yuri laughed, gently pushing Makkachin’s face away and straightening his glasses. “He’s smooth. I don’t think I should be falling for it, but I do, every time.”

Makkachin gave him another lick square across the mouth and over his nose, pushing into Yuri and sending him falling backward on his rear, pressing her advantage with a happily wagging tail.

“Makkachin!” Laughing, Yuri let her get away with a few more kisses before shoving her away, giving her a few aggressive pets before regaining his feet and heading for the sink. He needed to wash his face off, in a good mood and looking forward to that afternoon.

He even ended up asking Victor to tell him about the poodle rescue once he joined him in the kitchen, listening to his description of the facilities and volunteers while instructing Victor what to cut, what to set to cook, and what to wash. Between the two of them, they managed to get a serviceable lunch put together according to Yuri’s standards: Victor had previously been content with energy bars and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as picnic fare.

Which sounded perfectly serviceable when one merely wanted to eat, but picnics were for _enjoying_. 

Yuri, subsequently, had been left in charge of picnic and most meal planning ever since. Victor was an enthusiastic assistant, and this time was no different.

It wasn’t until they were at the rescue that Yuri switched roles, turning into Victor’s assistant as he helped keep hold of Makkachin and whatever equipment Victor saw fit to hand off. Today it looked like the big reflector and a bag of dog treats that Makkachin particularly loved.

The property itself was in good condition, with a copse of trees in one of the several fenced in meadows. The kennel itself took up a long stretch of land next to the house, runs behind each individual pen. From what Yuri could see they weren’t all occupied, or all their occupants weren’t visible, hanging out inside the covered structure instead of outside in the runs.

Makkachin let out a bark when a chorus of barks met them at the door, wagging her tail fast and hard as she danced from paw to paw. “It’s okay, Makkachin, I’m sure they want to see you too.” He shot Victor a questioning look, Victor taking a step back to find his hand and give it a squeeze.

“None of the dogs in the house are canine aggressive, but I’d prefer if you keep her close until all the sniff and greets are done.”

“Of course.” Yuri squeezed Victor’s hand in turn, and then faced forward. 

An imposing woman with sharp cheekbones and subtle makeup opened the door, sharp green eyes taking them in. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, her purple dress well-fitted and immaculate.

Impressive, considering three poodles of differing sizes crowded past her legs and shoved out onto the front steps, sniffing and walking loose-legged around each other, staring at Makkachin. 

Yuri was glad for the excuse not to meet the woman’s gaze. She was intense; he shivered, reaching down to pat Makkachin. “That’s a good girl, say hello to everyone.”

“Victor, Makkachin, good to see you. You are Yuri?”

Yuri kept himself from flinching, glancing up and offering a nod of his head and an awkward smile. “Yes?”

She regarded him for another moment. “Hn. I suppose you’ll be wanting to play with the puppies.”

“Lilia, who wouldn’t? _I_ want to play with the puppies, but we have that list to go through first.”

Lilia clucked her tongue, the three dogs sniffing and nosing at Makkachin and letting themselves be nosed in return looking up toward her. She clapped her hands twice, and the white standard poodle, the dark brown miniature poodle, and the parti coloured miniature poodle turning around and trotting right back her inside. “Puppies are lovely, but it’s only with the adults that you see the true beauty of a poodle. This way, Victor, Yuri, Makkachin. From what I remember, Makkachin does well with the young ones. She should be fine on this side of the puppy gate.”

They were led into an entryway, instructed to remove their shoes and place them in the cubbies with front covers preventing the poodles from easily reaching in and snatching shoes to chew on. Past the entrance, wood floors stretched away from them, leading toward a kitchen done in tile on one end, and a living area with a large hearth and rug in the other open area. The kitchen was closed off with a puppy gate stretched from wall to center island; Yuri presumed another one was on the far side, or else the whole structure would have been pointless.

Lilia marched them to the first, leaning over to pat the apricot poodle on the far side on her head. “This is Phantom. Her litter is about six weeks of age, not quite ready for full weaning. They’ve started with softened kibble, and they’re not house-trained. Most the time they use the pads. You’ve been warned.” She turned her considerable attention on Yuri, leveling an assessing look his way. He fought to keep from fidgeting.

“What are you waiting for? Go on, young man, you can let poor Makkachin off her leash to look through the living area, or bring her in to meet with Phantom. I’ll be taking Victor over to the kennels.”

“I’ll see who we have to work with before pulling you to help, if that sounds okay?” 

Yuri looked up from unlatching Makkachin’s leash to give Victor a small smile. Lilia had him unsettled enough he was glad to have some time away from her intense, direct force of energy, but he nodded, glad for the fact Victor was still counting on him to help. “Mm, that’s fine. I’m sure I’ll be able to manage with the puppies to distract me.”

Victor laughed, stepping closer to press a kiss against Yuri’s cheek. “Try not to fall too in love with any of them while I’m gone. Or do!” He winked, Yuri snorting and waving him off as Lilia started walking away, her house slippers tap-tap-tapping against the wood.

Phantom sniffed and danced on her hind legs as Yuri opened the dog gate, Makkachin giving him a look before turning the other way and promptly trotting over to the other poodles. Phantom almost darted out too, but Yuri managed to close her in with him again in the nick of time. The dog breathed out in a put upon sigh, fixing him with deep brown eyes and making a whining bark at him. She butted her head against his thigh, searching for attention if he was going to be so unkind as to not let her away from her demanding litter right now.

The puppies had apparently been napping in a pile around the corner of the kitchen island, two of them stumbling around on sleepy, wobbly legs, uncoordinated and curious. One had a stuffed toy half its size dragging between its legs, a plush arm clamped down between its jaws.

When the puppies saw the human with their mother, they barked, racing toward Yuri to crash into his legs and jump at him, nipping at the material of his pants.

Yuri was down on the floor almost immediately, opening his arms to the puppies that barreled around the corner at the sound of the first two puppies barking. Yuri laughed as he tried to placate eight wiggling puppies, clawing into his lap, jumping on his back, licking and mouthing his shirt, pants, and socks with happy abandon. “Look at you, look at all of you! Your mama has to be so proud.” 

Phantom high stepped away from the mass of puppies, retreating around the corner with two puppies trailing after. Yuri grinned, getting the sense that what was a novelty for him was weeks of constant harassment for her. She was probably grateful.

He had no idea how long he was there, dealing with puppy sharp teeth and toy ropes and soft puppy fur under his palms and kisses, so many puppy kisses. He narrowly avoids being peed on, standing up and finding one of the pee pads to turn over and soak it up with. Two puppies try to play with the pee pad as he uses it. Yuri smiled, half-heartedly telling them to leave it alone.

He was distracted enough not to notice what Makkachin and the other adult poodles were doing, chasing each other around and play-growling. The dark brown miniature kept close to the sofa, ears perked forward and listening. He only darted out when the other poodles came close, and then he threw himself forward, joining in the fray.

“Yuri, how are the puppies treating you?”

He turned his head, catching sight of Victor and his grin with Lilia looking somewhat less severe behind him. “Great,” Yuri said, “I think I’m their current favourite chew toy.” He bit back a yelp as a puppy caught some of his toe in their nip at his sock; he leaned down to scoop the responsible puppy up and face them the other way.

“I remember Makkachin at that age,” Victor said after he stopped laughing, looking down at the puppies who were gathering close to the dog gate, wagging their tails. They leapt up, feet finding purchase, but unable to get over the gate that kept even their mother properly contained. “She was so mouthy at first, but she learned better.”

“They do. Training, patience, and repetition. Three gold standards for most things in life,” Lilia said, stopping next to Victor. 

“Sounds about right.” 

Yuri smiled, nodding. He agreed with that mentality to an extent. Nothing was earned without continuing to work hard for it, at least in his life. “Are you ready to start photographing the dogs up for adoption?”

“Yeah. Lilia wanted to collect the parti coloured miniature poodle too, she’s just finished healing from a pretty bad case of mange. She hadn’t been able to play with anyone else for so long, Lilia’s been letter her stay inside with Rosso. He’s the standard poodle.” 

Yuri carefully extricated himself from the mouthy puppies, pushing one back from the gate with his foot and slipping out of the kitchen. “What about the brown poodle?”

Victor paused, looking toward Lilia. “No idea. That one’s new too, aren’t they?”

Lilia’s sharp featured softened as she watched the four adult poodles playing with each other, the brown poodle sometimes lagging behind. Makkachin was likely the oldest poodle there, but it was hard to tell with how sprightly she was right then.

“He is. He was an owner abandonment at the shelter, in the overnight kennels. Too well fed to be a stray, his coat was groomed, all the signs. He was a perfectly healthy looking dog.”

“Was?” Yuri felt the past tense put him on edge, looking back to the darker brown poodle as he touched noses with Makkachin. “What’s wrong?”

Lilia frowned, irritation around her eyes. Yuri could hear it in her voice as Victor slipped up to his side, winding an arm around his waist. “He wasn’t happy heading out at night. There were a few other odd behaviour I noticed, so I took him in to my vet for a thorough eye exam. We’re ninety percent sure he has PRA—progressive retinal atrophy.”

Yuri looked over to Lilia, knowing little past eye and the word atrophy never meaning anything good. “So what’s that mean for him?”

“It means our little Victory is going blind. Probably already was, and his ‘owners’ didn’t want to deal with it. Now he’s here.” Lilia sighed, a long, slow exhalation. “He has a big heart. He needs special attention, and that’s always hard. Even the healthy ones take time to find homes, and he doesn’t have time. He’ll be completely blind within the year, probably within the next six months.”

Yuri frowned, watching… Victory? Was that the dog’s name? He watched Victor nose up to Makkachin’s side and push onto his hind paws, biting at her shoulder. She rounded them in a circle, dislodging him and then rolling him over. He came up wiggling and gave off one single bark before shying away from the white poodle, who came up from his side.

Blindness didn’t seem like it should be a big issue for adoptability. All sorts of older dogs went partially blind. Didn’t they?

“He seems to be doing pretty well right now.” Victor tugged Yuri a little closer, thumb stroking over his hip.

“He’s gotten more comfortable here, which is good. He’ll need to be familiar with the layout for when he no longer can see. He’s already comfortable with a harness. I’ve been training him.” Lilia shook her head, clapping her hands and clucking her tongue. “Rosso! Jenny! Come.”

Makkachin perked up, wagging her tail at the sight of Victor and Yuri, trailing after the two poodles who went trotting toward Lilia. Victory trailed behind, tail wagging, sticking close to Makkachin. She lagged behind enough he could turn his nose and brush against her, walking where she did.

She turned away from Lilia to stop in front of her dads, sitting down and lifting a paw to place on Yuri’s knee. She looked up at him with her dark brown eyes, panting, tail wagging nice and slow. Victory sat down next to her, tail wagging hopefully. 

Yuri dug them both out a treat. Makkachin chewed hers down with a few loud crunches. Victory daintily accepted his and placed it on the ground, lowering himself to his belly so he could guard the small treat with his paws while nibbling at it with his front teeth.

“We need to start taking those photographs.” Victor spoke low next to Yuri’s ear, tickling his neck with his breath. Yuri shivered, wiping his fingers off on his pants.

“Right, okay. We should do that.”

Victory was on his mind the whole time he helped stand around holding a giant white circle of fabric, reflecting light from another angle to help Victor achieve the results he wanted on the profile photos of the poodles. Yuri smiled, distracted, appreciating that Lilia was far less intense when she was focused on her dogs and not on him. 

The photographing went by faster than he realised, one moment holding up reflectors, the next packing them away with Victor’s equipment in the car while retrieving their lunch. They headed back to Lilia’s house to pick up Makkachin, Victor describing the short walk out to an overlook with a fantastic view down the valley.

“Makkachin, here! Do you want to go for a walk with us, or are you having too much fun with your friends?”

Makkachin welcomed them with an enthusiastic bark, trotting over with her tail wagging. Victory trailed not far behind, lifting his head and turning it this way and that. Lilia stepped back through the door, trailing Jenny on a leash.

“Heading out on a walk?”

“Yeah, I wanted to show Yuri the view from down over on the hill. Do you mind if we leave the car here for now?”

Lilia gave a short, sharp wave of her hand. “Don’t mind.”

Victor smiled, hunting down Makkachin’s leash while Yuri stayed with the dogs. He licked his lips, looking down at Makkachin and Victory, her smaller shadow. Lilia was almost out the door again.

“Um, Ms. Lilia? Could we take Victory out with us?”

She paused, turning to face him with her eyebrows furrowed. “He gets nervous in new places. You can keep an eye on him? Walk him with his harness?”

Yuri smiled, only half aware of it. “I can understand feeling anxious about things.”

Lilia considered him a moment more, then nodded. She gestured to the front door. “His harness is blue. It’s hung on the pegs by the door.” Then she was gone out toward the kennels, Jenny trotting at her side.

Victor detoured to pick up the harness, lifting his eyebrows in silent query when he met Yuri’s eyes. Yuri smiled, a small sort of smile. He had no real explanation for why he’d asked, but he’d wanted… he hadn’t wanted to leave the younger dog alone just because everyone else was busy taking care of things.

Crouching down, he held out his hand for Victory to sniff, talking to him like he talked to Makkachin. “Hey, Victory. My name’s Yuri. How would you like to go on a walk with me, Makkachin, and Victor? We’ll bring you back after. It’s good to have adventures, sometimes. When you’re with good people they can be fun.”

Victor handed Yuri the harness. He could feel him studying his face, Yuri choosing to ignore it for the moment. He held the harness in his hands and took a minute to figure out how it went together, finding the hole meant for Victory’s head and where the band went under his chest to buckle over his back. Talking Victory through it, he carefully pulled the harness on over Victory’s head, smoothing out the mesh support that went over his chest and tucked up between his legs. “Good boy,” he said once he’d buckled him in, gently petting his head. Victory nuzzled into Yuri’s arm, licking at his face when Yuri leaned in to check the harness’s tightness. 

“Vicchan!” he said, laughing, which only provoked the dog into standing up and trying to jump on Yuri. Yuri saw Victor shake his head, but when he looked up at him, all he saw in his face was a soft fondness that made his chest ache in response. “Let’s go eat.”

They made it to the flat area looking down over the valley that Victor had in mind, spreading the blanket they brought over the ground and starting to arrange their picnic. Victory settled into sniffing at the grasses and rocks closest to them, keeping close. Makkachin flopped on the edge of the blanket and watched them with baleful eyes, begging without bothering to poke her head into any of their actual foodstuffs.

She was too good at that. Yuri could already feel himself weakening, though he’d at least attempt to be weak only when Victor wasn’t looking.

“What’re you thinking, Yuri?” Victor tapped a finger on his thermos, passing the warm tea back to Yuri.

Yuri blinked, starting to shake his head. “I’m not…” 

Victory sneezed, startling himself into a bark and leap back toward them where they sat. His ears were perked forward, listening for something Yuri couldn’t hear, and his tail was held low. Slowly he brought his tail back up, wagging once, then pawed at the ground and stalked forward to snap at the grass again.

Yuri sighed. He knew exactly what he was thinking, and how ridiculous it was. “Do you think Makkachin would be okay if she had a full time companion?”

He knew Victor wasn’t fooled over why Yuri was asking. Still, he had to love that his finacé went along with Yuri’s meandering way of getting to his point. “I think she’d be okay, as long as it wasn’t a puppy. She’s an older girl. Puppy energy would make her grumpier than she deserves to be when she’s feeling achy and tired.”

Yuri watched Victory give up on devouring the grass monster to come over by Makkachin, sitting down at her back. He flopped over with a groan, waving one paw in the air and squirming. Makkachin lifted her head, looking back toward him with her tongue lolling out.

“Does our apartment allow for multiple dogs?”

This time he heard Victor sigh, then start to chuckle. “Two, from what I signed initially. There’s another deposit, and the same rules about unnecessary noise, but that’s not new.”

Yuri felt Victor’s warmth at his side, an arm sliding around his back and coaxing him into leaning against Victor. He relented, head coming to a rest on Victor’s shoulder. “So.”

“So.”

“Is there any possible way this would work?” Yuri reached for Victor’s hand, thermos nestled between his legs. He watched Victory roll over and play-growl at Makkachin, then thrash around, go still, and start panting, waiting for her to join in.

Makkachin grunted, likewise rolling onto her back. Then they had two dogs squirming around with their legs thrust up into the air.

Victor leaned his head against Yuri’s, breathing in deep, then out slow. “It’s not going to be easy, but if you’re up for it, I am too. Makkachin already likes him. She’s the best judge of character I’ve ever met. I mean, she loved you when she first saw you, too.”

Yuri was quiet, an effervescent happiness filling him like champagne in a fluted glass. He swallowed, squeezing Victor’s hand. “I want this. I want to try. He deserves to be loved.”

He felt Victor press a kiss to his hair, lifting his head after to study Victor’s face. Victor looked neutral, only starting to smile with a soft sort of reverence as Yuri held his gaze.

“On one condition,” Victor said, winking. “We give him a nickname. Victory is wonderful, but it sounds like we tried to make a portmanteau of our names instead of finding a proper name for him.”

“What, isn’t this one of those like father, like son scenarios?”

Yuri laughed when Victor gasped, leaning in to lick Yuri’s ear. It was startling enough Yuri yelped and Victor pulled him closer, both of them laughing. 

“Victor, what was that!”

“Vengeance. Very swift, very terrible, and very,” he said, nuzzling by Yuri’s ear and dropping his voice down low, “Promising in other scenarios.” He nibbled Yuri’s earlobe, provoking a very different shiver and gasp that time. 

Victor pulled back, a very different smile on his lips. Yuri poked Victor pointedly in the ribs, trying to ignore how hot his face was, or the curl of arousal that stirred in his groin. Victor was entirely unfair, and they both knew it.

To be fair, Yuri was entirely unfair to Victor in his own turns, so it all worked out in the end. Their biggest weaknesses for each other were each other. It had a simple, sweet symmetry to it; caught up in a moment of that, they turned their eyes back to the site of the two dogs rolling around on their backs, and agreed.

“We’ll talk to Lilia when we get back, and talk to our landlady tomorrow.”

Yuri nodded, turning himself around enough to press an awkward kiss to Victor’s face. He’d been aiming for his cheek. He ended up kissing his jaw.

“Thank you, Vitya.” He felt Victor shiver, Yuri smiling as he called out to the poodles. “How would you like to come live with us, Vicchan?”

The smaller poodle rolled over onto his belly, perking his ears up and pointing his nose toward Yuri. His excited bark wasn’t an answer in the way Yuri wished, but he could allow himself to fancy that it was.

“How about it, Makkachin?” Victor smiled, squeezing Yuri’s hand. “Would you mind having a little brother?”

Makkachin didn’t bother rolling back onto her stomach. She barked, feet freewheeling in the air, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth, tail wagging faster at the mention of her name. Her canine grin was difficult to resist, especially when she was acting so sweetly silly.

“It’s decided then.” Victor leaned against Yuri, chuckling as they watched Vicchan reach out and try to play-bite Makkachin’s leg. “Welcome to the family, Vicchan.”

Yuri squeezed Victor’s hand and wondered, once again, if a person could die from an overflow of happiness. “Thank you,” he said, not finding the words to say any of the many other things he wanted to shout to the world about _Victor Nikiforov_ , the photographer, the man, his fiancé.

His husband a year and a half later, when they stood with Makkachin and Vicchan sitting at their feet and exchanged vows of their own writing under a trellis of flowers in Hasetsu on the beach of his childhood dreams. Victor had never been one of those; Victor he hadn’t even met until he was an adult in all senses of the word.

Love had been a childhood dream, and belief in himself, and he had those two things within him and with Victor, and he would have them all forevermore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading through these vignettes with me! I hope you enjoyed these glimpses into the lives of Victor and Yuri in this AU.
> 
> Long live Makkachin and Vicchan! ;)


End file.
